Without Hope
by iamthedickgrayson
Summary: Dick Grayson is kidnapped by The Court Of Owls. Wally appears. Jason bonds with his family. Damian's still a jerk. Alfred is sassy as usual. Deathstroke is mostly annoyed. Ra's doesn't care. Bruce is worried. Tim is still kind of a stalker. Babs still loves Dick. Kori and Roy are just there. Thomas is as creepy as ever. Sequel is coming up!
1. The Story

When Dick Grayson opened his eyes, he felt the familiar guise that was usually on his face to preserve his identity, gone. Instead, blue orbs filled with masked fear, stared wearily at the blurry figure standing over him. Somehow, he could not recall anything that happened before he had awoken. The only thing that came to mind was when he was riding on his Night-cycle, alone in the streets of Bludhaven. He felt a trickle of something hot and wet slowly run down the side of his face. Smelling the stench of iron, Dick immediately tried raising his hands up to wipe the blood away. He found out that he could not move. Not only that, but a huge tsunami of nausea smacked right into his temples, and he had to fight the urge to yell out in pain.

The figure in front of him raised a hand to his eyes, and Dick struggled to get out of the compromising condition he found himself in. The figure said something to him, but Dick only heard quiet mummers that buzzed in his ears. Then, as if a spell was put on him, the reality of what he had been through slammed down on him. Literally. Pain radiated from every inch of his body. It was so intense; Dick asked himself how he was still alive. Wounds opened, and blood came roaring out of him. The raw scream that came from his dry throat even made himself surprised, and the blinding hot agony that was surly etched onto his face was enough to knock him out. But, Dick had been raised by the best, and he was trained not to fall unconscious, no matter what situation he was in.

Dick _almost_ left himself drift off, but caught himself before he could. He had a horrible feeling that if he were to fall down the spiral of blackness he would never awaken again, and let the illusion keep him awake. He had long stopped screaming, his sore throat only letting occasional grunts out, and his eyesight slowly regained itself. Dick almost wanted his blurry eyesight back, for when he did open his eyes, he saw the true image of the hell he had been through. His black and blue Nightwing suit was no comparison to his black and blue skin, which was littered with bruises and gashes. Of course, his suit was slashed in many places, and Dick was surprised that it even was still on him. For some odd reason, the only coherent thought that got processed in his brain was "_Alfred's gonna have to stitch that_."

His stomach churned at sight of the-_his_ scarlet blood, running down the slab of stone that he was laying on. He curled his hands into fists, his nails biting into his skin, and saw the shackles. The shackles were _melded _onto the stone, as if someone had flame-torched the metal to the stone while his hands were still in it. The burns on his wrists certainly proved his discovery. He would never be able to get out of the restraints; no matter how hard he tried. With a sickening thought, he looked at the detailed carving on the stone he was laying on and saw that it was a star. A frickin' star; like the ones that the phony supernatural series he used to watch showcased. What was he, an offering to some make-believed god?

The figure that had been with him when he had woken up was still in the room, chanting strange words, in a different language. With the width of the shoulders and the low voice, the person was definitely a man, possibly in his mid-thirties. He was wearing a red robe that did not allow anyone to see his, face, yet a dark aurora certainly surrounded the man. There were others in robes, all men in their mid-thirties, but the rest were wearing black.

Dick pushed back the second wave of nausea he felt, and caught the numerous words in English that happened to slip through the tongues of the chanting men. "_Talon_" and "_Owlman_" were whispered in raspy voices, the rest an incoherent babble. The two words made his brain's cogs run on overdrive; he had heard those names before. Suddenly, a memory popped up in his mind in a vivid image.

_A very young Dick Grayson was sitting under the protective shade of a weeping willow; a cup of cold lemonade in his hand to chase the summer fumes away. He was picnicking with his mom and dad, and the couple was sitting on a faded pink and blue blanket on the grass that had little elephants sewn in detail on it. "Mami, Tati, tell me a story!" Dick had bounded up to his mom and dad like an over energetic puppy, his round blue eyes huge and full of happiness._

_ His mom patted the empty space next to her, and Dick sat down. "Well, since we are in Gotham today… How about me and your Father tell you a story that originated from here?"_

_ Dick had nodded, full of eagerness._

_ His Mother started the story. "There once was a little boy. He was a very lonely boy, who had watched his parents die in front of his eyes." Dick's eyes had widened at that part, and he clutched his Mother's shirt, and his Father's hand. _

_ "You'll never die, right?" He asked, trembling at the ugly thought. His Mother and Father had smiled. _

_ "We would never do that to you."_

_ "Promise?"_

_ "Promise."_

_ He had smiled, satisfied at the answer of his very mature question. The story went on._

_ "The man had a brother, and he wanted to protect him from the very same thing that had killed his parents. He immersed himself into the shadows, and very soon, people began to forget about the little boy. After a few years, the boy's brother even forgot about him. The boy had now turned into a man, and as the years came passing by, everyone forgot about him. Somehow, he had found the power of immortality, of living forever. He went to his younger brother to share the secret; but since the younger brother had forgotten about him, he had refused the gift. The man was outraged, and he stopped protecting his brother. He instead focused on the city that his dead parents had built and began to protect that. He rounded up many others, who were his loyal followers, and taught them the power of immortality. At first, he was ridding the streets of the filthy and greedy people, using justice and helping the police. Then, as the years passed by, he began to feel the pain of immortality. His younger brother, who was no longer younger than him anymore, was slowly dying. He had forgiven his brother, and rushed to his deathbed in which he had offered off the immortality again. His brother refused and died, saying in his last breath, "Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word about them, or they'll send The Talon for your head." No one knew why he had said that, but the man held his brothers cold hand and took his words to heart. He named himself Owlman, and he and his followers collected the perfect Talons, all made to look like his deceased brother. His methods turned dark, and he sent his Talon to take lives, instead of justice. Years came passing by, and the story of The Court of Owls slowly faded away, but many believe that they are still there in the shadows of Gotham."_

_His Mother finished the story, and his Father whistled. "Can't believe you still remember that. I barely do." _

_Dick had asked, "What did Owlman's brother look like?"_

_His Father had finally distributed something of the story. _

"_They say he had black hair and blue eyes."_


	2. The Making of Talon

The vivid memory of his deceased parents was like feeling a hard punch to the gut. Dick could still smell the flowery perfume that his Mother wore, and could almost literally feel his Father's strong calloused hand on his shoulder. Shuddering, Dick thought about all the years that the memory of the Owlman had stayed in his mind. As he turned into Robin, the story had faded away, and he had almost forgotten about it. He was lucky enough that while his life was slowly oozing out of him, he had been able to dig out the little memory of his parents telling him the myth.

Dick was sent back to the present when something nicked his numb body. It wasn't a nick though, and after a few seconds, he felt the full force of the pain. He looked down. It was a dagger. Embedded in his chest. It was frickn' _in his heart_! Gasping, the lungful of carbon dioxide stayed in his lungs, his heart fully unable to even try to pump the blood back and make oxygen; Dick could feel his life force being pulled away. The man with the red robe had stepped closer, and Dick had a feeling that he was the one who put the knife through his heart, though he did not see him do it.

It was funny, a few weeks back he had watched a documentary that Damian- (that was his little brother right?) had forced onto him, claiming that the information on the video would be much appreciated. The documentary was about a man who had a cardiac arrest, and was still alive at the end of it. The man had talked about how scary it was to loose his oxygen, and how he saw his whole future shrivel up and die. At this moment, Dick saw his own future curl up into a little ball and slowly fade away. He was never going to marry Babs, never going to make his own little family, never going to ever reduce the crime rate in Bludhaven to only ninety percent. He would never ever see his family again.

The loss of oxygen and the starvation to breath again forced Dick to stop remembering. He slowly forgot about his brothers, his father and mother, and Bruce, who had always been a second father to him. Grasping widely, Dick tried to retain his memories, but was rewarded with an almost deathly silence that rang throughout his skull. The stillness of everything that shut down in his de-functioning body made Dick say something, something that slipped out of his parched, dry lips.

"_Bruce… Help…_"

As if mad that he had said anything about his past, the men chanted, yelling out incantations that seemed fake to Dick just a few seconds ago, but now felt real and scary. An internal war raged in Dick, the men chanting versus him. He imagined himself, tugging on one end of the Nightwing suit, while the evil men clutched onto the other side. The men slowly overpowered him, and his Nightwing suit was thrown into a large black pit that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Something grabbed at his throat, and he looked down to see a bunch of owls attacking his already bruised body. He silently screamed on the stone slab as he was being eaten alive in his illusion.

Just as the owls were about to use their razor sharp talons to bring Dick Grayson to an end, Dick slipped out of the mental allusion, and was forced back to reality. Dick was heaving, even though no oxygen was being made. His brain already felt dead from the lack of blood pumping to his head.

How was he still alive? The moment he had stopped breathing seemed long ago, and Dick knew that he should have been dead. The red robed man took off his hood, and smiled. Dick almost cried in surprise, a sudden memory flying back into his head. The black hair… cold blue eyes… He looked exactly like Bruce! But as quickly as the memory came, it was banished.

The chanting of the robed men buzzed louder in his ears, and Dick suddenly felt a pull in him, his blood started pumping again. It was miraculous, almost magical. He had a feeling that if his friend Wally were there, he would have dismissed the idea of magic already.

Dick could almost hear his brain feebly starting again, shouting orders to the rest of his body parts to wake up. Although Dick was living again, he wanted to die, for it to be over with. Everything felt backwards in his body, and he couldn't remember anything. Who was he? Did he have any family? What was the ridiculous dirty suit he was wearing? Why did everything hurt?

The mummers of the strangely dressed men from all around Dick seemed to fade away as background noise, and suddenly he couldn't think of anything. The questions that he had just thrown around in his head had disappeared. All the pain he had felt was gone, and his wounds had started to heal themselves. The knife was pulled out of his heart with a sickening _pop_. Dick supposed that he should've felt nausea or something, but it felt like something had started to posses him, giving him the power to feel nothing.

The man in a red robe stepped up to him, and took his shackled hand. Dick forced his hand away, but his body refused to allow it. A cold, detached voice was spoken in his mind. _Richard John Grayson you are no more. You are His Talon. You belong to me, who belongs to The Owlman._ Dick shuddered as he heard the words, but his body did nothing.

The man in the red robe grasped his other hand, neither hands bringing comfort or warmth. Instead, the man's hands were cold, as if he was already dead.

"Richard John Grayson, you will be the new Talon." At the word Talon, Dick lost consciousness, as if the word itself had a new power to it. The man in the robe smiled again, and the chanting stopped. Thomas Wayne had just found his new Talon.


	3. Meanwhile in The Wayne Manor

When Damian opened his eyes, the warmth of the sun that shined in his eyes seemed to just decrease his happiness level, which was not high to begin with. His head pounded, and the smell of his own musky sweat along with the strange taste in his mouth made his frown deepen. Had he not took a shower after the patrol last night? Damian huffed, stepping into his master suite's bathroom to clean himself up. While he was messily brushing his teeth, Damian thought about Grayson.

Surprisingly so, Damian found himself worried for Grayson after he had stomped out of the Wayne manor a few days ago. His Father and Grayson had had a huge fight, which Damian did not see the point of. Both men had had their hands waved around in the air, as if it would emphasize the things that they were saying. Grayson was shouting, while his Father had said things in a cold soft voice, which seemed to further agitate Grayson.

Ever since his Father had disappeared, and Grayson had to become Batman, Damian's relationship with Grayson was stable, no matter how many times Damian had purposely put Grayson down, they were still the best of partners, although not as good as Grayson was with his Father. Sometimes Damian found himself jealous over the bond that Grayson shared with his Father, and soon after a while discovered that he was actually jealous of his Father, not Grayson. For some odd reason, he desperately wanted Grayson's attention.

On a bitter note, ever since Grayson had left, his Father had been stubborn and ignorant. He also went a lot harder on Damian, as if it was his fault.

"How does Grayson deal with you?" Damian would often think about his Father, even though he was raised to think that he was a good man. Last night's patrol consisted of his Father yelling at Damian as he tried to face the Joker alone. Ugh, when was Grayson coming back?

Whenever Grayson was back in the manor, the whole mood of the place would automatically cheer up, like god was barfing up rainbows and puppies into every nook and cranny of the manor. Damian swore that he didn't even have a shadow whenever he would pass by. He wouldn't admit it, but he did (kinda) enjoy the Grayson's visits.

Damian wearily sighed as he combed back his hair, adding a little bit of gel. He left the bathroom to search through the neat pile of clean clothes he had folded to get a clean shirt and pants. He did not expect to be jumped by The Swan Queen Drake, who was a nosy stalker.

"What the-!" Damian yelled, the years of assassin ninja training he had gotten when he was young sprouting up again. He flipped Drake off of him and twisted his arm behind his back, pushing his face to his bed, where he proceeded to suffocate him.

"Mmmmf!" Drake shouted, his voice muffled by the sheets, Damian waited a moment before let go of him. Grayson and Father would not be happy if he suffocated Drake.

"What the hell?!" Drake shouted, his voice going up an octave, which Damian found hilarious, though he chose not to show it. Drake ran a hand through his hair.

"Next time don't jump me, you dumbass." Damian stated coldly, sitting down on his hard bed. "Now tell me. Why are you in _my_ room?"

Drake coughed awkwardly, while he glared.

"Well… I think Dick might be in trouble." Drake said, slowly regaining his composure. His voice went into a more business-like tone as he went on with his story.

"I was checking the G.P.S for the little tracker I had stuck on Dick's Nightwing suit." Drake didn't even flinch when he basically admitted that he had been stalking Grayson. Damian's eyes narrowed.

"You stuck a tracker on him? Oh wait, I should've known! You're a frickin' stalker!" Damian shoved a pillow in his face, not wanting to show Drake that he was actually worried for Grayson. Drake sighed, and quickly erased the hurtful comments he was about to make.

"Any who, I noticed something was off. Dick had stayed in the same spot for like _hours_. So, I went to investigate, since I was thinking, 'Hey maybe he's out on patrol and needs some help.' I reached the place where Dick was supposed to be- a rooftop in the mid-east of Gotham, you know near the Gotham Academy, and found the tracker on the ground, smashed to bits and pieces."

"Hold on. You think Grayson is in trouble because he found out that you had stuck a tracker on him and broke it? Seems pretty normal to me, if you had stuck a tracker on me, I would have set it on fire." Damian said, interrupting Drake and giving him a nasty glare.

Secretly on the inside, Damian wished that his assumption were correct. Grayson just crushing the dumb tracker would have been a lot better than any other alternative. Unfortunately, Grayson seemed to be kidnapped more often than any of the other Bat-Family members.

"Damian, do you even know Dick? Even if he were to find out, he wouldn't be that cruel, especially to technology. He would've never crushed the tracker." Drake responded, he looked unsure if he should have been happy that he had corrected Damian for the first time, or anxious that Grayson was missing. "I pulled up all of the security footage in the local stores and homes near the spot Dick went missing near. I haven't gone through all of them yet, and I was thinking that maybe you could help, since you seem to _love_ Dick _so_ much." Damian bit the inside of his mouth, the sarcastic sentence that Tim had said ringed truth. Was it that obvious?

Choosing to not say anything about the comment, Damian scowled. "Have you told Father yet?" He crossed his arms.

"Well… I wanted to make sure that Dick was actually… you know, kidnapped or whatever, 'cause he'd be really mad if we assumed something without evidence." Drake suddenly looked unsure again, the topic of his Father was probably disheartening. Drake was still trying to cope with the deaths of his real parents.

Sighing, Damian got off the bed, clutching fresh pants and a crisp shirt. "Fine, Drake, but if you are wrong… you will be waking up seeing your own entrails."

Drake shrugged off the threat and straightened up himself.

They had some investigating to do.


	4. The Video

Honestly, Tim had never wanted to ask the devil child, Damian, for help. It was a huge blow to the little box of pride that he kept inside of him. Tim, being his obsessive little self, had actually tallied the points of each win of an argument that Damian and he had fought. Right now, Damian was winning with three points. As long as he didn't rub in the fact that Tim actually asked for help, he was fine. Of course, Tim would do anything for his beloved brother Dick, even if he suffered the wrath of the devil child (though he would wish not to be on the receiving end of Damian's long and loud fights).

Now, Damian was silently trailing behind Tim, the soft sound of footfalls getting amplified as they walked down the winding stone steps leading to the Batcave. Tim was perfectly content with the silence, but Damian was obviously not so. He had started to show sign of his worry, and Tim had to pinch his own arm to prevent himself from teasing Damian with his obvious affection with Dick.

"This is ridiculous, Drake! Grayson is the best fighter I know…" Damian yelled, interrupting the silence, trailing off at the end, and blushing at the last bit of what he had said. Damian had basically admitted that Dick was a better fighter. Tim now decided that maybe the blow in his pride wasn't as bad as it looked, since Damian had finally stopped acting like a douche.

"Just watch this file of videos- I'll watch this one. Tell me if you see anything." He pulled up the two compressed files that he had downloaded onto the Batcomputer, which Bruce had somehow, amazingly not have found yet. Damian grumbled, pressing his fingers on the holographic screen that was supposedly way off the charts compared to all the innovations in the twentieth century. Tim settled down into one of the squishy leather chairs that Dick used while he was using the Batcomputer. Damian reluctantly sat down, stiff in Bruce's leather chair.

The two stared at the monitors, going through video after video. There were many cameras near the spot he had found the broken tracker, with more than twenty long videos.

Tim had done his math; Dick had disappeared within 9 PM and 11 PM yesterday, and he had instructed Damian to look through at every video on fast motion between the times he had estimated.

Both Tim and Damian seemed to be out of luck when a bright light shined onto their faces.

"My god! Master Tim, Master Damian, what are you doing in the Batcave so early?" Alfred, Bruce's trusted friend and butler of the Wayne Manor had somehow snuck behind the two Batboys and confronted them. "Master Tim, you need some rest for your eyes, they're already red! The same goes to you, Master Damian!" The elderly man chided both boys, a platter of Danishes in one hand.

"Alfred! Just a few more hours!" Tim said, using a slightly shaking hand to pause the screen. Alfred was right, he did need more rest after all, he had been up all night last night, trying to find out what happened to Dick.

Alfred put on a warm smile. "I thought so, Master Tim. I made you coffee and snacks, if you got hungry."

Tim smiled, rubbing his eyes. "Thank you Alfred, you always know what to do."

Damian huffed, and quickly snatched one of the warm treats with one hand, the other going to unpause the video he had been watching.

Alfred silently left, wondering what in the world the two boys were doing. Usually they couldn't stand the sight of one another, and couldn't be put in the same room before someone ended up loosing a body part.

Sighing, Alfred shook his head, indulging himself with everyday household chores. He had learned not long ago to never question a Bat.

Tim sipped his steaming hot coffee, which was filled with half-n-half, Damian preferred his bitter dark coffee, while Dick decided that putting in bags of sugar and marshmallows, and two percent milk was the best way to go.

"…You know Father will eventually find out." Damian said, sighing into his cup. Tim shrugged, to show him that he was listening.

"Well, as long as we find out what happened to Dick, then we'll be fine." He responded after a momentarily long pause. Fate was not one their sides, as Bruce had decided to venture down into the Batcave at the exact time Tim had dismissed the possibility.

"What are you investigating?" A deep gravelly voice came from behind Tim, almost causing him to drop his mug of coffee and scream. Man, Bruce surprised people even when he wasn't Batman. Even Damian looked shocked when Bruce stepped out of the shadows.

"That is my computer. I can monitor what happens on it." Bruce said, frowning grimly, even though he was happy that he had caught he two red-handed. "So, does anyone want to tell me why you're looking through all the security camera's footage of Mid-Eastern Gotham?"

Tim grimaced about to answer the question when Damian, who seemed to be ignoring both of them, interrupted him.

"Drake, I found it! Dick is in this video!" Damian flicked his fingers, which sent the holographic video to the middle of the room, where it played itself.

Through the fuzzy reception, the figure of a man dressed in black and blue was jumping off of a rooftop. The man was definitely Dick, except his usual grace was gone, since he had several cuts oozing blood on his body.

Bruce immediately stared, bewildered at what he saw. He had never intended for Dick to be hurt so badly after he had stormed out of the manor. If he had known beforehand, he wouldn't have argued with him.

"Is that…" Bruce felt his stomach drop as he watched Dick flip off the rooftop, a dagger imbedding itself into his calf right after he had started falling.

Beside him, Tim and Damian seethed. Whoever had thrown that dagger… They were going to see the full might of the Batfamily.

Tim was clenching and unclenching his hands into fists, Damian choosing to cross his arms and glare at the holograph, while Bruce seemed to suck up all the sunshine, puppies, and flowers in one bat-glare.

"I'm changing." Bruce said, after the video started to play over again, speed- walking on the balls of his heels, and wishing he had his cowl to mask his emotions.

Alfred stood at the entrance of the cave, one trembling hand holding a silver platter with another cup of coffee in it, full of Kopi Luwak Gayo, Bruce's favorite. He set the cup softly onto a table near the Batcomputer, hastily making his way up the stairs.

"Oh dear."


	5. The Former Robin

Slade was surprised when he found a letter in his old, rusty mailbox. Actually, It technically wasn't his mailbox; it was in one of his many hideouts, so it didn't count. The letter was addressed to 'Mr. Slade' and it was all in cursive and tiny letters that made him want to puke.

Rubbing one gloved hand to his throbbing right temple, Slade read the letter. The first sentence made his stomach drop. It was from those sick bastards. Though they paid him handsomely every time he did an errand for them, they were still sick. Deathstroke wasn't squeamish about killing; he just didn't want to waste lives, even if he was a mercenary.

The letter read:

_To our Dearest Mercenary Deathstroke, _

_The Court Of Owls has come in need of your presence again. Though it does not involve killing, please take your guns and swords if you want to join in with the… fun. Tonight, come to Gotham, into the restaurant The Golden Palace and show the receptionists your letter. We will dine and have many cuisines, so be prepared for many foods._

_Please bring your mask. Please come, for we will be celebrating the new addition to the Court Of Owls. We are happy to announce that we found a new Talon._

_ Sincerely, The Court Of Owls_

Slade didn't want to go, he knew the sick bastard who called himself the leader of The Court Of Owls, Owlman, would be there; but he was a little bit curious of the new Talon. The last Talon had an awfully sad back-story, and he had been there when Cobb had used up all of his nine lives.

Slade suddenly snorted, a thought coming to him. "Boy, the Owlman sure has a brother kink." He remembered when he himself was obsessed over finding an apprentice. He had immediately targeted Robin for some odd reason.

He chugged water, and yelled, "William! I'm going to go to Gotham tonight!" Usually Slade wasn't such a slob, but today was his resting day. Between his daughter and his divorced wife, he needed one.

Wintergreen stuck his head through the doorway and nodded, chuckling as he saw his former friend actually relaxing for once.

"You better come back and clean up your mess, Wilson." Wintergreen joked as he saw all the beer cans and paper on the ground.

Slade mumbled, and pulled his mask over his face. He took his weapons and added his shurikens to the stack, just in case. Getting out of the comfy couch that he was laying on, he walked over to the window, which was rusting. He tried to get the window to open, but cursed when the stupid thing wouldn't budge. Wintergreen chuckled, silently watching Slade struggle with the window.

"Do you mind using the front door before you break that window?" He said, opening the door to the hallway a bit more. Slade growled before he gave up.

"Not a word William, not a word."

Wintergreen laughed all the way to the kitchen as he began preparing dinner for himself.

Outside, Slade didn't have to look to see if anyone was below him as he jumped out of the open door onto the balcony; since the sunlight was already dwindling as it was.

He grappled to the roof of one particularly large building that had advertisements for Wayne Enterprises.

"Tch. Bruce Wayne doesn't deserve a single penny he has." Slade thought, fighting the sudden urge to punch the billboard. "He barely earned any of that money."

Slade didn't know why, but the first time he had ever heard of "Bruce Wayne", he had a certain hatred for him, even when he didn't actually know who he was.

Rubbing his left eye, he groaned. That stupid spawn of Ra's had put a sword to his eye while he had tried to steal the Lazarus waters to make his own samples. Now, whenever he felt the wind on his face, his left eye would itch, kind of like it was doing now.

He finally made it to downtown Gotham, where the minor thugs and drug addicts would hang out. He looked down and saw someone backing a teenager to the wall. They were probably trying to either rape the teen, or get the teen on drugs. Slade rolled his eye(s). Didn't their mom ever teach them to not go out on the streets when it turned dark?

He let himself fall, right onto the thugs. Why was he doing this? He knocked their jaws back and let all three men fall to the ground with a thud. He then turned to the cowering teenager who was staring right at him.

"Boo." The teen ran, and Slade couldn't help but chuckle evilly. See, Batman was useless; he only took on the large villains. Someone needed to be there for the minor cases. Sighing, Slade grappled to the roof of the nearest building and began jumping and running again.

The Golden Palace was a nice little restaurant that was place right on the divide of Downtown Gotham and Eastern Gotham. He wondered why The Court Of Owls chose that place, since the last time he had a meeting was in higher Gotham, and because The Court Of Owls always had a reason for everything they did. They thought of every move they did in surprising detail. They even fooled the Batman himself, whom proclaimed himself as the best detective.

In fact Slade had only heard of them when he was first hired to kill a Talon's family. It was cruel, but he had done it anyways. They paid him lots of dough, making him wonder just how rich they were.

Slade let his mind drift off as he ran on the rooftops. He hadn't been doing that a lot lately, ever since Robin had become Nightwing and moved onto Bludhaven. He reached The Golden Palace and slipped into the lobby. It was deadly silent; there was no one else there except for a Caucasian male reception.

"Here you go." Slade said, tossing his letter onto the receptionist's desk. The man didn't even look at the writing inside of it before pointing to the back of the restaurant, where there was a brown door that looked like it was way to old to be still standing.

Slade made his way to the door, opening it and hearing the loud squeal of un-greased door hinges. Grunting, Slade walked inside the room. He absolutely hated squeaking doors, since they always gave him away if he wanted to be sneaky.

He finally surveyed the room and the first thing he saw was Ra's. He was drinking what looked like very expensive wine, and was fitted snugly in a business suit.

They locked their eyes, and you could practically hear the violence crackling in the air.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Slade said through gritted teeth, he couldn't stand Ra's. Someone in that room was going to end up dead.

"The real question would be: What are _you_ doing here?" Ra's said defiantly, sticking out his shoulders as if to express that he thought of himself as better than him.

Ra's put his wine cup down and Slade's one remaining eyebrow twitched. That bastard had the audacity to-

His thoughts were cut off when the squeaky doors once again sounded, alerting both of them that someone else had entered the room.

Slade had not expected to see the Owlman himself walk through the door, leading someone dressed in the clothes of a Talon.

That someone was familiar though, he had black hair that was combed back a certain way, and those eyes that seemed to fit that mask way to well…

It was Nightwing!

_Nightwing _was the new Talon!

Ra's seemed to had made the same conclusion, as he stared to. The all too familiar grace was still in Nightwing's/Talon's body, and Slade's assumption was immediately proven.

But Nightwing was without his snarky mouth, or his defiant actions. Even though he was an enemy to him, Slade felt a certain sorrow that he could not discern.

The Court Of Owls had broken the former Robin.


	6. Dick Vs Talon

Dick felt like he was watching a movie… of himself. He could see, smell, and feel everything that _he_ touched. But _he_ wasn't he. It was confusing. It was like someone was in his body, but they weren't sharing brains. Dick tried to move his fingers, but nothing happened. At first, he could only see darkness. Then, as if something else had consumed him, Dick had begun to see the actions that his body was doing- but he wasn't in control.

"Stop!" He screamed to his brain as his body let him get examined by strangely dressed men. No one answered, and his order bounced about his mind. He tried multiple things, trying to walk, trying to move, and even trying to speak. His real body wasn't doing anything that he ordered it. His neurons were a complete mess, since they couldn't send the messages of what Dick wanted to do with his body to his body parts.

After a while of experimenting and failing, someone spoke to him. It was the same voice he remembered falling unconscious too.

"_Try all you might little bird, you're already dead. You belong to The Court Of Owls and me. I am Talon. Get used to me."_

Dick screamed at the man who supposedly called himself "Talon". He yelled and pounded at his sub-conscious until his throat was dry.

"Let go of me! You sick bastard, who the hell are you?" Dick yelled, until nausea and dizziness hit him entirely. The blackness that seemed to envelope him ebbed at his eyesight, and he felt himself close his eyes. Talon did not close his eyes, forcing him to stay awake.

Groaning, Dick finally stopped the urge to fight back. He was just so tired. It wasn't helping that Talon would occasionally pinch his body, sending little pricks of pain to _his_ numb body.

_"I can't feel anything. Ha! I'll be using your body to the fullest, little bird."_

It was like Dick had two senses, one from Talon and one for himself. It was still very confusing to him.

On the outside world, someone placed a heavy hand on Talon's shoulder. "Ready to go to your party?"

That voice reminded Dick of someone he was supposed know. Unfortunately, nothing was coming to him. That voice was damn familiar, and Dick yelled for Talon to just _hurry up_ and turn around to see whom it was.

Talon smiled, and Dick could see the same smile on his face. Creepy. Is that what his smiles looked like, or was it just Talon? He/Talon slowly turned around so Dick could see the view. Black slicked back hair… blue eyes… that cold smirk… the memory came flying to Dick.

A weak word came out of his lips. "Bruce?" His outside body that Talon said he controlled said it.

"_NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_ Talon's long drawn-out scream was rattling in his brain as Dick gained control. The memories of him and Bruce; the fist time he arrived at the Wayne Manor, the time he had found about Batman, the first time he had really experienced the feeling of flight when he had become Robin… How had he forgotten?

He shakily tried out his limbs, and walked towards Bruce. The loud warbled surprised yells from the robed men surrounding him were ignored. Someone grabbed his legs, and he fell down on his face. Reaching a shaking hand toward the man standing in front of him, he whispered the name that gave him hope.

"Bruce!"

Instead of doing anything to help him, Bruce stood there, a strange little smile spreading on his face. Dick had never seen that smile before, but he didn't pay attention to it. He just wanted the person who saved him on that rainy day his parents had died. He wanted his dad. Dick pathetically crawled towards Bruce, but the robed men holding him down (more like dog piling him) caused him to only move a few inches.

"Bruce?" Dick could feel sweat mixed with salty tears slide down his face. He remembered Dami, his little brother. Damian would have never cried, and he cursed himself for his patheticness. Why wasn't Bruce doing anything to help him? The strong grips of the men piling on top of him actually hurt, and Dick realized that he wasn't wearing his costume. Crescent shaped wounds appeared all over his body, the exertion from sharp fingernails piercing through his skin.

Blood trailed down his wrists, where a majority of the sharp fingernails pressed down on. Dick stared into Bruce's eyes. He looked at Bruce's face as he walked over to him, and kneeled down. He placed a finger on Dick's lips.

"Hush a little for your daddy, hmm?" Dick ceased crying, what happened to Bruce? Why was he acting so… out of place? Bruce only smiled and got up. He stood in front of him, just out of arms reach. Damn it! He was so far… yet so close! Something pricked the back of his neck, and the next thing he knew was darkness.

DICKgraysonDICKgraysonDICKgraysonDICKgraysonDICKgraysonDICKgraysonDICKgrayson

There was a patch of light, and Dick reached out to grab it. All around him, dark tendrils wrapped around his body, and held him back. Dick kicked and struggled, cursing wildly, he needed to get to the light. For some odd reason, flashes of cold blue eyes kept him going. At last, Dick kicked free and ran to the light, flinging himself inside of the tight, small opening.

He was awake again, and heard a voice.

"_Finally. Could you have been any slower? If you died back there, I would have to go through long-assed process again!"_

His brain registered a sharp pain from his writs. He couldn't look down to see what had happened to him because someone was controlling his body. Dick couldn't even remember what his name was.

His body got up, though he wanted to stay down and just lie down and sleep. Dick was escorted to a little restaurant, and the first thing that he noticed was the bright yellow neon light that said, "The Golden Palace" on the top of it. Men with heavy artillery were posted to each side of him, and Dick found himself wondering that if before he got the stupid amnesia, was he dangerous? Some dude at a counter pointed at the back of the place. He saw himself walk out towards a brown door that squealed terribly loud on its hinges. There was a hand on his shoulder, and some man was smiling down at him.

Voices inside of his head kept discouraging his already battered pride.

_ "Ha. Can' t even remember a thing, what an idiot you are, little bird."_

_ "Don't even try to escape, you won't be able to._

_ "Bruce never loved you."_

The last statement dulled his eyes. There was no man that he knew as 'Bruce'. And was his name Little Bird? Lost in all the confusion and mystery, Dick was directed into the room. It was a big room, and the person inside of his head spoke up.

_"Wow, look at all that food. I haven't eaten in ages since that idiot William Cobb died a while back. Oh yeah, the party is for you. I heard Owlman say that you looked exactly like his brother, unlike the other godamn Talons who had no talent. I do see some potential in you, but not too much."_

Dick recorded the name into his new memory banks. Owlman… he sounded interesting. Dick wondered if it was the man who had his hand on his shoulder. He finally faced the other men in the room, who had been there when he had come in.

The man who was gripping his shoulder whispered something in his ear, "Talon. Take a bow."

Was Talon his name? Dick decided that Talon was his name, and did what he was told, surprisingly, he could actually control his body that time.

_"See, was that so hard? Now, if you follow Thomas's orders like a good boy, then I'll let you control your body, 'Kay?"_

Dick almost nodded, but stopped himself. He bit his lip until it drew blood and made himself look at the men he had bowed too. He had a feeling that if he spoke out loud, then he would be punished or something.

Both men were staring at him in awe. Thomas, the man who had told him to bow, smirked. He put one hand down on Dick's head almost lovingly, and said to the two men, "Meet Dick Grayson, my new Talon."


	7. Thomas Wayne

Thomas knew he had found the right person. He had been getting his yearly supply of weapons from Ra's when he had come across the vigilante Nightwing, disrupting his supply. Nightwing had been knocking out all of Ra's men who were carefully putting all of his ammo, swords, and guns he had ordered into wooden crates.

Thomas had already been mad that William Cobb, his former Talon had died, and he didn't want to get even madder because his weapons weren't shipped to him on time; he needed something, or better yet: someone to vent his anger out at. So, Thomas had dived right into the fight. Most of the other henchmen were down, and the rest injured. Thomas got Nightwing all to himself. He punched and kicked, but didn't anticipate Nightwing's reflexes to be that sharp. He got a few strikes in, but the rest hit air. Nightwing was flexible _and_ fast.

Thomas usually didn't pay attention to the hero business, since he was too busy in Gotham. He paid a little bit of his attention to Batman, since he operated in Gotham, but had seen no problem with the bat, until he had gotten Robin. He had angrily wondered why Batman of all people would have a partner like _that_. Thomas watched through the shadows to determine if Robin was really all that great for Batman, if he wasn't, then Thomas would have to kill them both. He remembered seeing Robin's agility and persistence when he had first seen him in the shadows. It surprised him and he let the Dynamic Duo be.

He remembered when an arrogant, hotheaded brat replaced Robin. He had wanted to kill him immediately, but unfortunately the Joker got to him first. He wondered, what had happened to the first Robin? After a while, Thomas stopped paying attention to the dynamic duo when he discovered something big. He had long forgotten about the first Robin, but dueling with Nightwing fueled back the obsession he had created overtime.

Thomas finally gotten an upper hand in his fight with Nightwing, and he had ended up straddling the bird. In midst of the fight, he had forgotten about the death of Cobb immediately. Thomas had immortal powers, and he could endure almost anything. The fight may have been unfair, since Nightwing's energy had slowly depleted over the fight, but he had been good while he had lasted.

Thomas smiled down at the struggling former Boy Wonder beneath him. A sudden urge to see the color of his eyes burst throughout his body. He slowly reached for the mask, and Nightwing stopped struggling, almost automatically bringing his hands up to his face. Thomas used one hand to trap Nightwing's arms to the ground above his head, and used his other to peel the mask off.

A strangled sound came from Nightwing as blue eyes stared up at him. Bright, dazzling blue eyes. He had been too engrossed in trying to get out of his grasp that he had forgotten to close his eyes!

Thomas almost lost himself. Those blue eyes, sparkling with life and youth… that black, ebony hair that he had just began to notice… he looked exactly like his deceased little brother!

Painful memories from the past bubbled up, and Thomas had to look away from those _damn _blue eyes. Memories of him and his little brother playing tag in their Mother's large estate, of him and his brother happily running with their dog Ace, him and his brother happily telling their Father their test scores…

A sudden thought occurred to him. Why didn't he make the man before him his new Talon? He could be the experiment to his new test too! Thomas didn't even have to think about it before he whipped out the tranquilizer he always kept in his back pocket, (just in case).

DICKgraysonDICKgraysonDICKgraysonDICKgraysonDICKgraysonDICKgraysonDICKgrayson

Thomas smiled down at the man, who he had found out was called Richard John Grayson, but preferred the nickname Dick. He had rolled him onto the traditional stone that used for every ritual. He had cleaned up his tracks nicely, tossing the tracking device over his shoulder as he ran with an unconscious Nightwing on his back. The only thing that had gone wrong was when Richard had awoken. Thomas assumed that the Batman, who he had found out as Bruce Wayne, made all his kids take antidotes to all sorts of drugs.

Thomas was forced to throw a knife at Nightwing's calf as he had tried to foolishly flip of a building. If Nightwing were to fall, he wouldn't have his grappling gun (since Thomas had taken that away from him), and would have a probability of more than fifty percent of dying. He had run after Nightwing, dodging a security camera in the process.

Finally, he had him in his arms. Thomas leaned down and brushed the bangs out of his eyes. He really looked astonishly like his little brother. He called some of his Clan members, and they began performing the ritual. He pulled the red hood over his face, and stood over Richard. They were performing the ritual differently this year. He took his special knife out, a light blue substance dripping off the blade.

He began cutting Richard's smooth skin. The blue substance was distributed throughout Richard's bloodstream. By now, the other men dressed in black robes were whispering quietly to themselves. They had never actually wasted time putting various cuts onto the soon to be Talon. Thomas ignored the stares, and finally put his knife away, the blue substance now completely gone.

"Continue." He whispered, focusing on Richards's face, which was scrunched up at the pain of the cuts he had just received. The men shrugged and began their chanting. Eagerly watching to see if his experiment would work, Thomas began chanting too.

Everyone except him was surprised to see the scarlet blood that was oozing down Richard's body start forming into a star. Thomas smiled, overjoyed.

_His little brother would be reborn again._


	8. Jason Hears the News

Jason slowly put his red helmet on, covering the messy hair and a shit-eating smirk. He twirled his twin handguns and flipped them into the holster that was around his belt. Chuckling, he slowly pulled on the leather jacket that had been lying on the edge of his messy bed, the jacket hugging snugly onto his frame. Crossing his room with long strides, Jason whistled an annoying tune and flung his closet open. Ak-47s, bazookas, sniper rifles, machine guns, and boxes of ammo were precariously littered across the floor. He took the Ak-47 and slung it over his shoulder, fiddling with the strap so it fit comfortably. Jason placed some magazines (ammo) into his belt, and gracefully sidestepped the other dangerous objects on the floor of his closet. Reaching the hidden compartment that was on the way back end of the surprisingly large closet, he typed on a keypad that was attached on the white wall. A "beep" sounded, and the wall moved away with a hiss, revealing the sharpened and gleaming set of various sized blades. Knives, katanas, and daggers were lined up neatly on shelves. Unlike the other section of the 'closet', everything was tidy and organized.

Jason preferred bladed weapons to guns. Guns, they could be remade, and were the same. Blades, they were all custom made, the handles and different resources that made up the weapons were all different. Jason liked different. All of his knives were made out of different material, and they were all handmade. The handles were all carved in a way that made the weapons themselves have a beautiful but dangerous look to them. Jason strode up to the best of the batch, right on the middle shelf, the one blade that he used for every patrol. A marvelous ivory knife with a carved handle made of dark cedar wood, was carefully slipped into a little compartment on the bottom of his boot.

Jason wasn't one to be this slow to prepare for a night in Gotham, no, it would usually take him only a few minutes to get all of his 'stuff' ready. He just liked trolling Roy, one of the three members of The Outlaws. He thought that the red head was hilarious when mad. Roy's face would turn to a red color, matching his hair. Jason tried to piss him off whenever he could.

As if to prove Jason's point, Roy's shrill voice rang out. "JASON! I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU DON'T HURRY UP AND GET YOUR SORRY ASS OVER HERE, ME AND KORY WILL LEAVE WITHOUT YOU!" He was clearly annoyed.

Jason's smirk widened under the red helmet, and as he straitened up very slowly, he shouted back, "JUST A MINUTE!" At a leisurely pace, he walked out of his closet, closing the secret room that held his precious knives, and shuffling around the guns on the floor. He knew that Roy wouldn't leave to patrol without him. One, Jason would chase Roy down and shoot him, and two; Kory was such a goody-goody that she would stop him from leaving.

Kory, the sexy alien from Tamaran, and the superhero known as Starfire, was the best fighter in The Outlaws. Jason didn't like to admit it, but she was a total badass, (although Jason was the best badass of the team). She could shoot lasers out of her eyes, beams out of her hands, and could fly. Roy, on the other hand, was totally _not_ sexy, and had no awesome powers. He was the superhero named Arsenal, former sidekick of Green Arrow, and a human. The other Roy that was roaming around Star city, as Red Arrow was a clone of the real Roy. Both 'Roys' had somewhat enhanced speed, but that was about it (though his aim was a little bit better that Jason's, but oh well…). Jason was also human…or whatever could be described as human. Maybe he was a zombie? Ra's Al Ghul had raised him from the dead. Apparently, he wasn't supposed to die, but the Joker got a little out of hand. So, he was technically human… though anyone who was trained by the Bat was never actually human in the end…

Jason finally got to the door, where he could hear Roy banging on his furniture clearly. Oh, his neighbors would probably file a complaint sooner or later… He opened the door, and quickly sidestepped the incoming vase that was thrown at his head. With a loud shatter, bits and pieces of dirt and glass fell to the ground. The neighbors definitely file a report now.

"Finally! What the hell were you doing in there? Taking a long relaxing shower, hmm? I've got important information-" Roy's head _was_ as red as his hair! Jason laughed, and interrupted his ranting. Kory just draped herself over the ratty old cushions on the sofa, not attempting to break up the incoming spit battle.

"Where the fuck did you get that vase? I sure didn't have one of those! Did you take it from the neighbors?" Jason said angrily. Now that he thought of it, he never did actually own a vase.

Roy's haughty look told Jason everything he needed to know.

"Jesus! Roy, the neighbors are gonna kill me! I'm gonna be kicked out of this shitty apartment!" Usually, Jason stayed in his safe houses, but this particular apartment was the one with all the secret compartments in the walls and behind paintings. He wouldn't want to install the same shit to another building; it would take way too long.

Kory laughed, the sound reminding Jason of tinkling bells. Roy snorted, grabbing his bow.

"Y'know, I was gonna tell you a rumor. You know, it's about Dickie-" Roy's smirk settled to a frown. Kory interrupted him.

"Wait, it's about Dick?!" She asked, immediately getting off the sofa and flying over to Roy at fast speed. She was infatuated with Dick, even if he was currently with the Oracle, A.K.A Barbara Gordon. Jason rolled his eyes at her urgency, but underneath the safety of his helmet, he frowned. Dick was prone to kidnapping.

Roy continued, his masked eyes somehow darkening. Once upon a time ago, Wally, Dick, and he were the best of friends. Then, Roy had been cloned and locked up in a test tube. Dick and Wally had never been the same to him, though they were still friends, after he had gotten out. Red Arrow had stolen the two under his wing, and the real Roy was left out.

"As I was saying, Dick hasn't been in Bludhaven at all. I called him yesterday, but he didn't answer, and you know how he is with his phone- it's on even in battle! So, I went over to his apartment, and guess who I see there? Our dear little Robin and Red Robin, going through all the stuff in Dick's place! I asked them what they were doing, but they only left without a word! Something is definitely wrong." Roy fingered one of his feathered arrows, and turned to Jason.

"We goin' to his place?" He asked tentatively. Roy didn't know Jason's relationship with Dick. The two had been close when Jason was still Robin, but after Jason was pulled out of death, nothing was the same. Though, he heard from Dick that he was trying to maintain a strong relationship with Jason.

Jason nodded, and Kory sighed. She too had always had to tread lightly with Jason whenever the subject had anything to do with Dick.

"I have a bad feeling about this…" Jason mumbled, hastily climbing out the window and pulling out his grappling gun. Kory and Roy followed silently; exchanging a dark glance with each other. They had a bad feeling too.

Luckily, Bludhaven was only a few miles away, and the three were able to arrive to the border of the neighboring cities. Jason stood on the tall building that had the word "Wayne" on the top, and scowled. The Wayne building stood right at the divide of Bludhaven and Gotham. Already he could see the small, shabby buildings that were littered all around 'Haven.

Jason turned to Roy and Kory. "You ready?" He asked grimly, watching them nod.

"I was born ready." Roy huffed, making Jason roll his eyes. He grappled the building that was on the edge of the Bludhaven, and the darkness enveloped him as he sailed down to the other side. There was another thud, and Roy was on the roof too. Kory floated over, her long orange locks flying widely.

"Lets find Nightwing."


	9. Bruce Becomes Baman

Bruce Wayne was used to the kidnapping. Being the Prince of Gotham attracted dangerous and larger foes. In addition to his secret 'night jobs', he wasn't all that surprised when one of his children got kidnapped. In fact, it became a usual thing.

At first, when Dick was still sporting his green scaly panties, Bruce hadn't been mentally prepared to have him missing. He had foolishly forgotten about all the dangers that came with being adopted by the Bruce Wayne, and the Batman.

When Two Face had kidnapped and beaten the life out of the first Robin, Bruce had had a mental shutdown. If it weren't for Alfred, he probably wouldn't have found Dick. He remembered not sleeping or eating for days. He hadn't even drunk anything, too occupied by searching in vain for Dick.

Of course, Bruce still did forget to eat, sleep, or drinking when his children went missing, but not to the same extent than when he had first taken Dick under his wing. Sometimes, he would grimly think about what would have happened if he had arrived a little later.

Sighing, Bruce put the lukewarm cup of coffee on the Battable. A memory popped up in his head, and he briefly chuckled. When Dick had first found out about the Batcave, he had first and foremost named everything with the word 'Bat' in the front of it. Bruce had long since gotten accumulated to the language, and had started to use it too. The memory quickly vanished, and Bruce turned his attention back to the Batcomputer.

He had sent Tim and Damian to Dick's apartment, so they could look for any evidence. He had been stuck watching the security footage. Bruce's head hurt from watching the sharp, gleaming dagger embed itself into his son's leg.

"Master Bruce." He quickly paused the video, and turned to the figure that had spoken his name.

"Alfred." Bruce addressed with a shake of his head. He stood up and stretched, knowing full well that Alfred was going to tell him to stop watching the damn video. The sound of a back cracking only further fueled Alfred's rampage.

"Master Bruce. I've got to clean the Batcave. Leave. Go. Get." Alfred not-so-subtly ushered him into the Batmobile, giving him an excuse to leave and do something. He knew that just sitting in the Cave and doing nothing must have been killing Bruce.

Bruce strapped himself in, and hurriedly thanked Alfred, who had turned to leave. He turned to the dashboard, which displayed various different colored buttons that flashed on and off occasionally. Damian had updated the Batmobile, giving it fully functioning fancy new gadgets.

He set the Batmobile to autopilot and pulled out his communicator. As one of the magnificently concealed rocks started silently moving upward, he called up Tim.

"Red Robin."

"Batman."

The two addressed each other, business as usual. The Batmobile rolled out of the Cave, right under the rocks.

"What did you find?"

"Arsenal was there. Other than that, Nightwing's apartment was completely the same. The only thing that was missing was his diary."

Of course Dick owned a diary. Bruce silently chuckled as he heard Damian in the background.

"Of course _you_ would know where his diary is, Drake."

"No names out on the field."

He cut the signal as the Oracle sign flashed up on the screen. Shit. He had forgotten to tell Barbara, Dick's on and off girlfriend. She would be livid.

Bruce massaged his temples as he sent Barbara's call to Damian. He didn't have time for theatrics. Turning off the autopilot mode, he put his hands on the wheel, and pressed another button. The Batmobile slowly lifted up into the air, wings popping out of the sides.

He guided himself through the hazy maze of Gotham, her lights burning brightly, and her enticing smells wafting. Bruce finally made it to his destination, the building that Dick had been jumping off of in the security video. He nodded at the little hidden camera in the corner of the roof, and exited the Batmobile.

Bruce felt around his cowl, and felt the little button that Damian had also made. He pressed it, and suddenly he could see ten times better. The lenses were something that Damian had installed- it magnified and corresponded with Batman's thoughts. If he wanted to zoom in to look at something, all he would have to do was think about it, and the lenses would grant it. It had worked marvelously, and Damian had added the features to Nightwing and his own masks'. He had refused to give anything to Red Robin, so Tim had to make a prototype of his own.

Bruce knelt down, zooming the lenses in. There was a little red spot, one so minuscule, that it would have never had been seen with the naked eyes. He dug around in his Batbelt, and groped around for a swab.

At last, his Kevlar gloves closed around the swab, and he swiped it out of his belt. He took the swab, and dabbed the ground. When he lifted it back up, there was a wan pink that barely showed up.

Stiffly, Bruce stood up. If the blood had been able to be picked up by a swab, then it must've meant that it was fresh. Calculating the hours in his head, he deduced that if it was Dick's blood, then he had been hit with the knife at least a day again.

That meant that the other days that Dick hadn't returned his calls, and seemed to have been completely off the radar, was on his own record. Bruce remembered the argument that he had with Dick before he had stormed off. It seemed like every other spat that the two had shared over the past years, but it had been about something deep and personal.

That argument could've sparked the reason why Dick had disappeared. Which meant that it was Bruce's fault that Dick had been kidnapped. If he hadn't argued with him, than Dick wouldn't have ran, and he wouldn't have been in the situation he was in now.

Bruce looked around the roof, but found no other traces of evidence. As he lithely hoped into the Batmobile, his communicator rang. It was Barbara.

"Batman. You're a shit. Did you know that?" Her voice was strong, but Bruce could tell that it held traces of tears in it. Great, now his guilt was doubled.

"Oracle. What did you call me for?" He straightened his voice, putting his mask back on. He was not going to show any emotion.

"I'm sending in Batgirl." Bruce nodded, thought she couldn't see. Barbara and Stephanie Brown were friends. They had been, ever since the making or The Birds Of Prey, where the entire female Bats made a little group (including Catwoman) that was centered on Barbara, since she had lost all feeling in her legs.

"Is that it?" Bruce said, knowing that she had something else to say.

"Nightwing was seen around Ra's. He was stopping their weapons bust. I don't have footage; there was a woman who saw him fighting. She didn't see what had happened after."

"When did this happen?" He asked, already navigating his way to Ra's in the Batmobile. The jets in the back of the mobile were silent, but were strong enough to lift the Batmobile up.

There was a cough on the other end. "Yesterday."

/AUTHORS NOTE: I decided to retype this chapter, so the plot might change a little. Thank you for all the motivational reviews that I got!/


	10. Alfred Gets Help

Alfred didn't like cleaning. Despite all the long hours of bending down to dust every nook and cranny, scrubbing the dirty pots and pans in the kitchen 'till they shined, and mopping the long corridors of the Wayne manor until there was not a speck of mud on the ground, he still despised cleaning. The only reason that Alfred decided to indulge in the mindless chore, was because it kept him busy, and useful. He needed the distraction. All of his 'masters' kept him up until morning, their alter identities forcing him to accept that every night, one of his boys might not come home. Perhaps this was the reason why Alfred could feel the fine lines of age starting to wear him down.

Right now, Alfred busied himself to dusting the huge penny that Bruce had gotten from one of his many adventures as Batman. The feather duster stroked the copper with a new, stronger gusto every time he thought of all the endless possibilities of what was happening to Dick. After he had practically pushed Bruce out of the cave, Alfred had set upon himself to clean every little thing, until his hands were worn and calloused finely by the wooden handles of the various mops and brooms that he owned. The constant distractions proved to be very helpful, and he mused with a suspicion that this was why he owned so many cleaning supplies.

He had thrown away the blueberry mousse that he had made that morning. Blueberry mousse was Dick's favorite, and Alfred didn't want painful memories to resurface. Instead, he switched to a bland apple pie. He planned on serving it for dessert. As he took the vacuum that was resting on the Bat-table, the holographic screen popped up, and there was a gentle buzzing sound, signaling that someone was calling the Cave, presumably looking for Batman. Alfred set down the vacuum, and begrudgingly hovered his fingers over the 'accept the call' button on the screen. A slightly cheerful voice that Alfred had grown to respect immediately started talking on the other end of the line.

"Hello, Bru- uh, I mean Batman, this is Flash. The Justice League has a new mission, I'm pretty sure you already know about it, we're gonna go to space to fight Darkseid, and you know how much Superman _hates_ him, so I was figuring on calling you, you know, just in case Superman needs someone to keep him on the right path, oh, and also, bring Dic- I mean Nightwing, he could keep an eye on the fancy-smancy technology that Darkseid owns, I swear to god, where does he even get all those gadgets? I would love to keep them! Hey, Batman, do you think that I could take them after the fight is over? Batman? You there?" Flash, or Wally West, talked a mile a minute, not even taking a breath in his sentences.

Wally was Dick's best friend. They had been close ever since Batman had introduced Robin to the world, and Barry had introduced Kid Flash. There had been a certain attraction to both of them, and they both had gotten through pretty traumatizing situations together. After Barry had died, the two got even closer together.

It took Alfred a while to process what Flash had said. Despite Bruce's pride, he wanted to tell Wally about Dick's missing presence, in hopes of having faster help. So, Alfred decided that he was going to enlist the speedster to the search party. He hoped that Bruce would not be mad.

"Actually, this is Alfred." He knew that he shouldn't have said his name, but Flash had long since earned the title of being one of the Bats.

"Oh. Is Batman there? 'Cause Darkseid is on the loose again and-" Wally started to explain everything over again, but was interrupted by Alfred.

"Batman is currently out of the Cave."

"Where is he? 'Cause, you know, we really need him to-" Once again, Alfred interrupted Wally.

He did not need to hear the whole 'Darkseid' thing again.

"He's investigating the disappearance of Nightwing."

"Wait. Slow down, Agent A, 'The disappearance of Nightwing'? Did he go and get himself kidnapped again? Is that why he wasn't returning any of his calls? Why didn't you tell me? When? Where? How? Why? Can I help? Will Bruc- Batman be mad? Hold on, I'll be right over!" Wally was talking even faster, anxious to find out what happened to his best friend. He didn't even give Alfred enough time to answer any of his questions, before shutting off his communicator.

Alfred was back to the silence of the Batcave, listening to the occasional squeaks from the bats that were nestled on the top of the cave, all handing upside down and blending in to the dark atmosphere.

Sighing, he reluctantly climbed the rocky stairs that led up to the grandfather clock that was the entrance of the cave. Wally would be there any minute, and Alfred needed to open the door, before he crashed right through it. Navigating his way throughout the huge Wayne Manor, Alfred found himself unconsciously stopping right outside of Dick's room. He stopped, and peeked his head in, only to find the rumpled sheets and the missing piles of dirty clothes that usually littered the floor. Alfred hurriedly closed the door and walked to the front entrance.

The whole estate harbored a dark feeling that was caused by Dick's kidnapping. Alfred hadn't noticed it, until he had swung open the front door, and a tiny patch of light found its way onto the spotless, but dark, floors. A few second later, there was a 'Whoosh' and suddenly Wally was in a disgruntled, flustered heap on the ground (in his civilian clothes). Alfred raised an eyebrow. The infamous Flash had tripped over a door trim.

"Sorry I'm late! I had to convince Superman and the rest of the league to let me off the mission! Superman was especially suspicious, 'cause he had heard some of our conversation on the communicator, and I had to make an excuse, 'cause I figured that Bruce wouldn't like other superheroes other than me, knowing that Dick is gone!" Wally got up from the now rumpled carpet, and apologetically sped around to clean the room. The whole process took only a few seconds, and by the time Alfred blinked, the room looked as spotless as it had been before.

"So does Bruce know about me being here? 'Cause I got a feeling that he doesn't! Are you sure that Dick's not just in hiding from Bruce? I remember he did that once…" Wally rambled on, and Alfred resisted the urge slap the boy and teach him proper grammar, so he wasn't slandering the English language. He felt a headache start throbbing, and Alfred interrupted the speedster yet _again_.

"No, Bruce does not know that you're here. Now, please make yourself useful and help with the search. I fear that Master Richard has little time left." Alfred pushed Wally to the Batcave, and showed him the video.

While Wally was watching Dick flipping sloppily off the roof, he took out his phone and dialed Bruce. After a few seconds, he answered.

"Agent A. I've got a blood sample; I want you to see if the DNA matches with Dick's." Bruce spoke first. "I'm sending it to you right now."

"Master Bruce, first I would like to tell you that-" Alfred was interrupted by a 'ding', that sounded in the Cave.

"Did you get the swab?" Bruce asked on the other line.

"Yes sir, it's there." Alfred put some gloves on, and walked over to the little zeta tube that Bruce had specifically installed for evidence and objects, that was near the Bat-computer. He cautiously picked up the red swab, and placed it onto the DNA tray that was attached to the large monitor.

"Is that Dick's blood?!" Wally's voice sounded right behind him, and Alfred almost face-palmed. On the other end of the communicator that was still on, Batman growled.

"Was that the Flash?" Wally gulped and looked at the communicator, shrinking back a little. Even after all these years, he was still afraid of the great Batman.

"Yes sir, it was." Alfred answered, taking off the gloves and scanning the swab. He waited for the results.

"What?!" Batman growled, a mix of annoyance and surprise in his low voice.

"Oh my, Sir, I'd advise you to worry about other things." Alfred continued, looking at the screen. Wally, who was in the corner, gave him a look that said 'You talk back to _the_ Batman?'

"It seems like the blood sample you sent me belongs to Master Richard."


	11. Ra's Al Ghul

Ra's thoughtfully sipped the blood red wine that was elegantly being stirred around with a flick of his wrist. The color matched the blood that stained Talon's trembling body. The boy was sitting in his own little chair on the other side of the room, with Owlman boasting about how perfect he was. It was funny, he had already known that Nightwing had been Richard Grayson, but to see Slade's face when Owlman mentioned it… Slade had probably finally put together the pieces, linking Bruce Wayne to Batman.

He remembered how furious his daughter, Talia, had been when Nightwing had become Batman. He, on the other hand, didn't mind. He didn't care if Nightwing had become Batman and taken his grandson under his wing; he had long since disowned his 'grandson' ages ago. He didn't pay attention to any of the Batman drama. As long as the Bats didn't interfere with any of the big plans that he had been scheming….

Ra's thoughts were interrupted when he felt the heavy glare of Deathstroke drilling little holes on the back of his neck. Ever since they had all sat down at the fancy dining table, he had been unhappily glaring at him.

He did felt a little twinge of sympathy for the other man. He knew of Slade's strange obsession with Robin, back when they had been enemies in Jump City. In fact, the whole super villain community knew to keep their hands off of Robin- Deathstroke had claimed him first as his apprentice. Owlman had taken the former Robin anyways.

Ra's smirked as he put his wine down on the table, the red liquid sloshing to and fro. His gut felt the incoming fight that was about to go down, and usually his gut was right. Ra's liked fights. They were exhilarating, and kept his blood pumping, wanting for more. He leaned back on the plump chair, and silently observed Slade and Owlman. The two had sent hostile sparks toward each other, ever since Richard had been brought into the room. It had been wrong to Ra's too, he would have never thought of Richard Grayson, a former Robin, being the new Talon. Though he had gotten over his initial surprise, it was apparent that Deathstroke hadn't.

"Anyways," Owlman popped a violet grape into his mouth, "Richard will make a fine guinea pig for my new test."

Ra's straightened up out of his seat, the cocky look disappearing away from his face completely.

"What test?" Ra's was, surprisingly, very into science. When the Flash had first appeared in Star City, he had been ecstatic with joy. He hadn't had a nice science experiment in a while, and he was pretty sure that the Flash had gained his powers by science, pure science. He supposed that the Lazarus pits contributed to his interest in science though Ra's had yet discovered the secret behind the magical green waters. Flash had unfortunately, gotten away from the trap he had set for him, and the dreams to uncovering what genius formula made a human superhuman with speed, was shattered.

Owlman had yet to leave him stunned, even though he seemed to be immortal. Ra's was also immortal, in his own Lazarus pits ways, and a military experiment gone wrong made Deathstroke immortal also. Maybe the new 'test' that Owlman had just mentioned could be interesting.

"What test?" His question was mimicked when Slade joined the conversation. Ra's raised his eyebrow at Owlman, whom only smirked an irritating smirk that you could just see the beginnings from below his mask.

"_Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word about them, or they'll send The Talon for you head_." Owlman said in a hushed voice, putting one finger that was clad in a black gauntlet, against his lips. He stood, and Richard followed, automatic and cold. Though his grace was there, it missed the usual flow that usually accompanied his movement.

"I'll let you think about it." Owlman said leaving his stunned guests still seated, "Please don't tell anyone about Richard. It would be an awfully annoying if I had to clean your blood off my hands." He left, Talon trailing after him like a lost ghost. The rusty door closed, making more screechy noises.

"Psh, I'm not scared of him." Deathstroke said from the other side of the room, though Ra's doubted it.

The Court Of Owls were pretty opposing. Ra's snorted at the thought of Slade cowering in fear beneath Owlman's feet. Both men had never seen his face, the mask covering Owlman's eyes, though Ra's had often imagined cold, steel orbs peering at then from the darkness.

Ra's watched as Slade left the room, the tension in the air completely dispersing. He stayed in his chair, picking up his glass of wine, and sipping the warming alcohol inside of it. Once done, he sighed and ran fingers through his hair.

Ra's stood up, leaving a considerable amount of cash on the table. He patted down his black crumpled suit and stood up. Suddenly, his sleek Samsung phone started buzzing in his pocket.

"Hello?" Ra's pulled out his phone, opening the creaky door and making his way out of the Golden Palace.

"Father?" The sweet but chilling voice of his daughter Talia, sounded on the other end.

"Hmm?" Ra's answered, waving his chauffeur over. The black limousine rolled up, looking too shiny and antique for East-Gotham.

"You should get back here." Talia continued, she sounded annoyed.

"I am coming." Ra's said, climbing into the limo and signaling the driver to drive.

"Maybe a bit faster, Father." Talia insisted. She sounded a bit urgent.

"What happened?" Ra's beckoned for the driver to drive a little faster.

"Batman came. He brought his little Batclan too."

Ra's sighed, containing his anger. He had said that he didn't pay much attention to Batman, but now that he was interfering with his plans… Ra's would have no more of it.


	12. Tim and Stephanie

"Red Robin," Damian addressed, face a little bit red, "I assume that you can handle this?" He tossed his communicator at Tim, who fumbled with the device, but caught it automatically, and hurriedly grappled to the next building.

Tim looked at the face on the screen. He too, almost dropped the device.

"Tim? Mind telling me what happened?" Barbara's voice crackled on the other end, and her face was stony and red with rage.

Tim was silent. He had never felt the Oracle's rage upon him, but he heard of the stories of the woman making even the Dark Night fidgety. It was a wonder how the happy-go-lucky Dick Grayson had been able to pair up with her. He had never been that close to her, but had known her through his girlfriend, Stephanie.

"What?" Tim said, after a few seconds. He did not want to feel the rage of Barbara, but he felt her pain. If Stephanie had gone missing for a day without a ransom note or any evidence, Tim would have wanted to know too.

"You know what I'm talking about! What happened? I tried to call Dick to get him to tell me, but his phone was off. I asked Bruce, and he pushed me off to Damian. I asked him, and he pushed me off to you. So tell me. What am I missing?" Barbara was clearly frustrated, her face now as red as her hair. She seethed, totally forgetting about the 'no names on the field' rule.

Tim sighed, and decided not to aggravate her more by pushing her off of him to Alfred.

"Nightwing's missing." He winced as the words rolled off his tongue, the look on Barbara's face was of pure anger and surprise. Maybe he shouldn't have told her.

"How long." Barbara's voice was cold and Tim was relieved that she didn't start screaming at him.

"Yesterday. Robin and I are investigating right now." Barbara didn't even thank him before blurting out.

"I'm sending Batgirl to your location." There was a click, and before Tim could respond, the screen turned black.

He sighed, and tucked the device into his Red Robin belt. He had not anticipated his girlfriend joining the investigation. If he was correct, than Bruce had not wanted anyone else to know of Dick's disappearance. He was glad that Stephanie was helping, he could deal with the Devil child Damian if she was there, but he didn't want Bruce to be mad at him because he had introduced another person to search for Dick. Oh well.

Tim took out his grappling gun and went in the direction that Robin had disappeared to. The darkness developed around him, wrapping him in a soothing comfortable feeling that he was completely used to. The shadows warped to show his body smoothly gliding over building after building. His black cape billowed out behind him, making a soothing noise. It didn't take long before he saw Damian on a random rooftop, waiting for him.

"Here." Tim tossed the communicator at Robin, whom gracefully caught it. "Thanks a lot." He added sarcastically, making a face at him underneath his mask.

"You're welcome." Damian smirked, and fiddled with the buttons on his communicator.

Tim rolled his eyes at Damian's cockiness. How did Dick deal with the child? He was so annoying and stuck up.

"She's sending in Batgirl." Tim informed him as he pulled out his own comm.

He jumped onto another building, he didn't need to use his grappling gun since it was close enough so that you couldn't even put a trashcan between the spaces. He heard Damian start talking, presumably to Bruce. Tim called Stephanie.

He had been very busy, and hadn't seen his girlfriend for at least a week. In fact, the two had been very busy with their hero work, Tim in Gotham and Stephanie training the new members of the Teen Titans.

"Hello?" Her melodious beautiful voice answered on the other end of the device. The background noises indicated that she was moving very quickly.

"Did Oracle tell you yet?" He asked, sitting down on the rooftop and leaning against one of the AC vents.

"Yeah. I'm coming over right now. I hitchhiked on this train that was going to Gotham." Tim chuckled, imagining her seated on the top of a train that was going about 70 mph, completely unaffected as the people inside of it stared and gawked.

"How long do you estimate it will take you to get here?" Tim looked at the blank screen of his comm. Stephanie did not have the camera on her communicator, since she hadn't been there when Damian had been kind enough to tinker with all the Bat' s communicators and update the systems. Tim wished that she had been there, he wanted to see her face.

"Well, if this train doesn't make stop, then maybe about 40 minutes." Stephanie answered, and Tim almost groaned. Forty minutes was a lot.

"Ok. We meeting up at the Batcave or…?" He started his sentence but trailed off at the end. Of course she was going to the Batcave, which was the whole reason that he was calling her; to tell her their coordinates. Tim inwardly groaned, and cursed his awkwardness.

There was a momentarily lapse of silence, and then Stephanie said something that reminded him of why they got together in the first place. "Sorry. I swallowed a bug."

The uncomfortable quiet was broken when she made him chuckle. Tim silently thanked her, smiling widely even though she couldn't see it.

An angry Damian, whom stormed up to Tim and snatched the communicator away from him, interrupting the moment.

"Is this Fatgirl?" Damian rudely spat, glaring at Tim while holding the device just out of his reach.

"Give that back!" Tim yelled jumping up grabbing at the communicator. Even though Damian was three heads shorter than him, Tim couldn't get the gadget from him.

'Stupid Damian and his stupid years of ninja training' Tim thought, as Damian lithely jumped onto the AC vents that he had been leaning on, and stuck his tongue out at him.

"Yeah, Batman called, he told me to give you these coordinates." Damian turned serious, his face stoning up, causing Tim to stop in his tracks, wondering why he was turned so cold all of a sudden.

"We're meeting at the Al Ghuls's." He didn't give Stephanie time to say anything, before he shut the communicator off and threw it at Tim. Damian abruptly turned, and started grappling his way off in the direction of the Wayne Manor.

Tim sighed and started after him.


	13. Damian and Ra's

Damian didn't like his grandfather. His evil, super villain, mastermind grandfather. When he was young, and had lived with his evil, super villain, mastermind mother, he had been trained to be a ninja, and the heir to the Al Ghuls. He had been just at the ripe age of three years old, when he had been trained to climb a mountain. There had been one of his instructors, one that he had grown to hate every passing day, whom had poked his little toddler feet whenever he had been about to fall.

There had only been one person that had been kind to him, had stitched his wounds, and had listened to his rants. She had been his nanny, someone who would take place of his mother, Talia. When he was four years old, Ra's had killed her right in front of him. The betrayal in her dead, glazed eyes had almost drove Damian over the edge of his sanity. Fortunately, his mother had given him to father.

Damian hated when his father forbade him to participate in some missions. When he had figured out that those missions were the ones in which Ra's appeared in, Damian had been furious. To have his own father think that he couldn't handle his grandfather?!

Now, when Batman had called him and told him that they would be regrouping in the Al Ghouls place to find out what happened to Grayson, Damian could feel the pit of doubt and fear start growing. A few months ago, he would have been prideful and happy that father had admitted that he needed his help in defeating his grandfather. Apparently, something inside of him had changed. His heart told him that he was in fact, scared of the thought of his grandfather. His mind, on the other hand, told him that there was nothing to be feared.

Damian's wandering thoughts were interrupted when Drake nudged him on his shoulder. When had he gotten behind him?! Damian almost let out an unmanly shriek, but stopped himself from doing so.

"What do you want, Red Robin?!" He hissed, over the wind howling in his ears. Yes, the two were grappling above Gotham's streets.

"Are you okay?" Drake's annoyingly pity-filled voice was lost in the wind, but Damian's sharp hearing picked up the sound.

"Yes I am! Now go take your useless pity somewhere else, Drake!" Damian would not stand for the lesser being, Drake, actually being worried for him. He applied more force in his legs than necessary, causing him to swing even faster and further than Drake. In no time at all, he was standing on the nicely paved roof of the Wayne Manor.

Scrambling down, and slipping into the open window that led to his room (Damian always left his windows open), he hefted his hidden swords under the pillow on his bed and ran to the dining room.

"Pennyworth!" He crowed, while twisting the clock's hands to 9:00, the time of his father's parent's death. "Fatgirls coming!"

When the great grandfather clock started moving, Damian used to his small build to squeeze into the cave. He always liked arriving first in the Batcave. While other family members used the garage door to enter, Damian chose to come through any open window. Pennyworth and Drake had long since remembered to keep at least one of the glass panes slid up.

He scrambled onto the big leather chair that was seated in front of the great Batcomputer, and cracked his knuckles. Damian then proceeded to wait for Drake. This was his favorite part.

"Drake. Two minutes worse than last time. You should work on that." He smirked, while peeling the mask slowly off his face, making a big show of turning the chair around, so he was facing Drake.

Drake sighed and ungracefully plopped himself down on his own seat.

"You know, one day someone will see Robin swinging onto the Wayne Manor, and into Damian's room. Then you'll see why we all use the garage." He massaged his temples while closing his eyes tightly. Damian was truly was a devil child.

"Yeah right. Don't you remember that I was trained to be a ninja? Regular people can't see ninjas. They're all idiots anyways. They wouldn't be able to piece it all together." Damian turned himself around and fiddled with the Batcomputer's buttons, turning on the great monitor.

Drake scoffed. "I found out. And I was a 'regular person'." He turned around too, and pulled up one a holographic keyboard. He started to type, fingers flying over the keyboard as if he was showing off to Damian, rubbing in the fact that he could not type.

"Tt." With that, the conversation was over, the 'Cave silent except for the occasional squeaks of bats.

The bright screen flashed on Damian's face while he scrolled down all the previous reports of all the missions that Batman and Robin had fought.

Tim was typing the report of the evidence both of them had found in Dick's apartment. The report would be documented and saved later. No one liked writing reports of their previous actions. Though they were a 'fun bedtime story', the reports were required to have full details, and specifications. Even the great Batman hated spending hours on the activity. Damian had fought with him, and eventually they had established that he would write the long reports. Tim had eventually given in when Dick had gotten Damian to admit that he was not good at typing.

Damian trailed one finger on the holograph, lazily flicking the screen. His eyes were slowly closing, though he was taught not to go to sleep. He had pulled so many all-nighters that even concealer could not cover the multiple bags that hung dark and low under his eyes. His flew open when someone's communicator started to bleep.

Through the corner of his eye, Damian saw Drake pick up the black gadget that was attached to his belt.

"Hello?" Damian zoomed in onto the conversation, choosing to ignore the records that shone brightly in front of him. He continued to flick at the screen, but did not pay attention to the words that were being shown. Through one flick of his finger, Damian failed to notice the small words written in Cambria font that labeled 'William Cobb, The Unsolved Mystery'.

"Oh, Stephanie. You're here? Already? Okay. Yup. See ya. Bye." Tim shut off the communicator, and the 'Cave returned back to the lulling sounds of bats squawking.

Damian turned his attention back to the reports, starting off where he had flicked off too. He doubted that the records would help him, or Grayson, but Father had demanded. He didn't know that his sloppy work had just cost someone's life.


	14. Test: Failed

"Talon," There was that soothing voice again, one that haunted him and picked at something in the back of his mind. He wished that the voice would stop speaking. It made his brain hurt, an unceasing agony that he could not explain. The blurry face that was above him held an unnerving smile; one that held both evil but goodness. Something wet and sticky was pooling around him, something that smelt of iron. He didn't understand it. He couldn't remember it. Why was there a red liquid seeping into his clothes? Why was he here?

Turning his aching neck, he looked at the other body that was lying on the ground. There was a little girl. One who had her small, blue eyes opened wide, glassed over, and lifeless. One who had her small blouse ripped, with the same scarlet blood dripping over and over again on the darkening ground. One who had her mouth opened wide with a soundless scream that no one would ever hear. Had he did this? Had he killed this little girl? He looked down, looked down at his dark clothes, at the drying blood, his hands stained with the maddening color that surrounded him.

He flexed his hand, discovering the new feeling of limbs cracking and blood flowing back into the numb. He looked up again, only to see the face that was still posed above him, whispering the same thing over and over again in an infuriating white noise.

"Talon," This time, there was something firmer in the voice, as if some renewed energy that he could not feel was just sprinkled in the air.

"Talon," Now, he could clearly hear the sickening voice, his head no longer stuffed underwater. His tongue was completely useless. He had wanted to yell at the man above him. He just wanted to yell 'stop', and just curl up and close his eyes. Unfortunately the soothing and confusing whispers fighting in his mind stopped him from doing anything. He flexed his hand again, while none of his other body parts responded to his orders. It was comforting to be in control of something. Though he couldn't do anything else, just moving his head back and forth and stretching his hand was a great accomplishment.

The blurry face above him got clearer after a few more minutes, that seemed like hours to him, and he could finally see the outline of the bitter blue eyes, the black, raven hair. In absurd detail, he saw the flecks of sweat that lined the man's face, the black irises in his cold eyes.

"TALON!" The voice was louder, more clear. As if he was a bear that had just hibernated and was waking up from the long, deep sleep, he started to _feel_. He could feel the curves of a knife that he held in his hand. When had that gotten there? He could feel the built up tension in his muscles, the stinging sensation in his heart. There was something dark, something that he had never experienced before, something that sprung up from his tingling heart and made his insides frozen with an unbearable cold. What was this feeling? Several words came to mind; guilt, disbelief, disgust, self-hatred…

There was something wrong with the situation. There was something wrong with the notion of _him_ killing somebody, much less a little girl. Why was it wrong? He didn't understand. The warm handle of the knife that seemed to be forever engraved into his hand started to sting with his guilty conscience. He wanted to drop the damn thing, but now he couldn't move a single limb in his body.

The man above him finally stopped. He waited for a few more seconds, not believing his luck. His ears had already felt like they were going to bleed out, but now the momentarily lapse of rest from those haunting whispers filled his mind with a better, more resolved feeling.

He ran his broken tongue over his teeth, feeling them scratch up against it. "R-robin," He blurted out, using up all of his effort to force out the word.

Everything was coming back to him, everything except for his scrambled memory. Why had he said that? It was the only thing that came to mind, robin, robin, robin, over and over again. What was wrong with him? Why was he saying this? His body was responding, and he tried to stand up, sluggishly putting one hand on the ground. The red ground. He had forgotten about the blood. There was a lot of it, and even though the ground was a dark black, the blood just soaked right through.

The man in front of him… his name came back to him, his name was Owlman. But what was his name? Owlman had been calling him Talon, though he knew with a stubborn certainty that his name was not that. Nor was it Robin, but he knew that it was close. Robin… the word was still repeating itself in his head, but not with the heavy voice of Owlman, no it was a soothing, lulling voice of a female.

"Robin," the voice echoed throughout his mind, and then a more masculine voice said it too.

"Robin," a sudden picture of a man and a woman, holding each other, looking down on him, flashed in his brain. He knew he was hallucinating. There was no way in the world someone could look that kind. He could also still smell the iron that lingered beyond the picture.

Now, instead of the steady mantra of the word 'robin', lost voices echoed in his head. Voices that somehow brought steady tears running down his face. Why was he crying? What was wrong? Behind the murmuring voices, a distant noise was shouting at him. But he chose to ignore it.

"Our little robin!" A soothing voice echoed, churning his insides with a white surprise. It was the voice of his mother, Mary Grayson. He was Richard Grayson. His father was John Grayson. Everything was coming back to him, and he could feel his body reacting. He could feel himself flinch away from the Owlman's touch. He wasn't Bruce, but he sure looked like him.

"Who-who're you?" Dick slurred, shaking on his knees. "Y-your r-real name isn't really O-owlman is it?" He took a step back away from him, and slouched on a brick wall. He looked around, and saw that they were in an alleyway.

"W-what happened?" He looked at the girl, whom was still lying there on the ground, the red blood still continuing to pour out of her open stomach wound. He turned back to Owlman, whom was not saying anything. Instead of the answers Dick thought he would be receiving, he only stared at him with cold, calculating eyes.

"Test one; failed." The voice came out as a whisper, and suddenly Dick felt nauseas. His vision turned black as his stomach gave loud protests. He dry heaved, onto the ground; he hadn't eaten anything in days.

There was a hand over his eyes, and his awoken brain suddenly fell back into a deep slumber again.


	15. The Traitor

Thomas carelessly stepped over the little girl's body; he had yet to receive her name. Though he killed many, he did not like to kill for no reason. Training his new Talon was a good reason, and he proudly patted himself on the back for being able to snag the little girl without raising suspicion. In his arms lay Richard Grayson, whom he had tricked into thinking that he had killed the little girl.

"Labs one, open door." Thomas said, impatiently watching as a smartly concealed door rose up. He had to give Richard more of his special… medications. Never before had he been so involved with a Talon as he had this one, but Thomas supposed it was because he was the guinea pig for his new lab.

He took one glance back at the white space where the little girl and her blood lay, there was no alleyway, and the room was illuminated by one, single, flickering light bulb. Judging by Richard's reaction, the meds were working. Thomas then stepped out of the lab room, looking at the two opposing corridors. Where should he go, left or right? To his left was Richard's room, and to his right was his own chamber.

Thomas sighed and went right. His attendants were probably still prepping Talon's room. He leaned up, and stared at a little indent on the wall near his door. There was a red light, which flashed up and down his face, and then a mechanical voice sounded.

"Recognized Owlman, access granted." The door slid up, and he stepped inside, the still unconscious Richard Grayson stirring slightly.

"Shush," Thomas said, putting one finger to Richard's lips and the other reaching into his back pocket for the syringe. It was a blue formula, which glowed brilliantly, the same thing he had used in the ritual. He set him down, onto his great king-sized bed, and gently inserted the needle into Richard's neck. Thomas smiled when he groaned and stopped moving; the medication was working.

"Sleep tight." Thomas stepped back and left the room, signaling a passing servant to watch the sedated guest that was on his bed. He crossed the hallways, and into his office with long strides. He had to tweak some things in his plans. Thomas had not expected Richard to be so stubborn. He was not supposed to remember about Robin. He was not supposed to be able to fight it!

"Ugh. Stupid Bats and their stupid stubbornness." Thomas walked into his office, his fingers rubbing his temples. His assistant handed him the phone, just as he sat down.

"Someone called." The assistant said, walking away with several folders tucked in her hands. He could only wonder who it was, since only a select few people knew his phone number. He looked at the contact and saw the name 'Ra's'.

"Al Ghul? Why would you be calling me?" Thomas was pretty annoyed, first at Richard, and now at Ra's. He was not in the mood to talk. He rolled a cabinet back, and picked up a file labeled 'Project X'.

"Sorry Owlman, but it seems that the Bats have started pestering me because of you. I'm terminating my contract. Bye." With that, the phone went back to dial tone, and Thomas almost about screamed in frustration. With the contract gone, there was nothing holding Ra's back from telling the truth to Batman.

Thomas threw the file onto the table, redialing Ra's number as fast as he could. There was no way in the world he was going to let the little traitor tell the Batman about his Talon.

After a few rings, someone finally picked up. "Hello?" A woman's voice practically purred on the other end. It was probably Talia; anyone who knew the League of Assassins knew of the wicked daughter of Ra's.

"Talia!" Thomas exclaimed, taking his rage on the woman, "Tell Ra's that-" He was cut off by the insolent woman.

"You Owlman? Anyways, don't worry. Ra's already told Beloved about your new Talon. Richard." She said that name with a disgusted tone. "Richard, that gypsy trash. I do believe that Beloved is now trying to find out your secret hideout. Bye."

"Wait!" Before Thomas could say another word, Talia hung up. It was on use in calling the line again, Ra's would have it changed. The harm had already been done, Ra's had told Batman about Richard.

He threw the phone onto the ground, enraged. There was no use in running away; he would just have to face the Batman once and for all. He picked up the file, and started to pace around. If he were going to fight the Batclan, than he would have to fix up his Talon first. Maybe show them the true might of their so-called 'Nightwing'.

Thomas sat down again when his feet began to hurt. He pressed a button that was hidden on the underbelly of the table, and watched as the surface of the table flipped around. He cracked his knuckles and started to work. The time ticked away quickly, so much that what felt like a minute was actually half of an hour. It didn't take long before he had a fully-fledged new plan that had an even stronger drug that he would give Richard a few hours of each day.

He proudly held up the new vial of the blue fizzy liquid, and though it looked the same as the one as he had just used on Talon, Thomas knew to be wary. If he accidentally broke the glass that contained the blue liquid, the fumes of it would be so strong that it could affect anyone whom breathed it in, lasting longer and more stretched out than the shots that Richard received. It could make someone dead in the brain in no time at all.

Thomas dragged one hand down his face and wiped his eyes, which hurt from the long exposure to the tiny handwriting scrawled on the file. He got up and leaned back, efficiently working out all the cricks and cracks in his back.

Thomas gently held the vial in his hands, and put the Project X files back into the cabinet. He walked out of his office, and back to his chamber. He was going to inject Richard with his new medication, and watch it take affect.

"Ready or not, Batman, here I come." Thomas whispered darkly, after stepping into his room. He was going to win the fight with Batman, and finally end the Dark Knight once and for all.

It would probably do well for the whole of Gotham if he got rid of the vigilante, hell, and even his little birdies too.

Locked deep in his thoughts, Thomas shooed away the assistant that he had sent to look after his Talon, and then jabbed the needle into Richard's neck. There was already a dark bruise forming in that area, from the previous needle. Thomas knew that he should have waited until the lasting affects of the other formula slowly circulated out of Richard's body, but he didn't care. He had read the reports, read all of his diaries, and knew that Richard could withstand almost any force.

A deep chuckle sounded from his throat, a sound that he hadn't made in a _very_ long time.


	16. Damien Al Ghul

Talia wasn't evil. Despite all of the killing and deceiving that she did daily, she wasn't evil. At least, that's what she thought. When she caught word that her Beloved was coming over, Talia sat right up in her throne, and smiled at the ninja that had told her.

"Perfect!" She continued to grin, hoping that it wasn't that sadistic of a smile. She took one of her long, red fingernails and stroked underneath the jaw of the ninja. The man clad in black stayed still, just as Ra's had taught him. Talia soon got bored of him, when no reaction was indicated.

"Bring me my phone." Talia said, letting go of the ninja's face and started staring at her nails. They were manicured the day before, and the dark red fitted her green eyes perfectly.

After talking to Ra's, she sent the ninja away, keeping her phone with her. When the grand doors closed, something rustled in the back of the room.

"Hello?" Talia said, her sweet and alluring (but deadly) voice carrying throughout the room. She smirked; it was probably Beloved and his little robins. She shuddered in anticipation of seeing her son again, Damian Al Ghul. She wanted so badly to see his reaction when she showed him his clone brother.

"Beloved, is that you?" Talia asked, getting out of her throne and pacing across the floor. She crossed the space that was between her and Batman, whom she knew was hiding in the shadows.

"Are you looking for that gypsy trash?" Talia's demeanor changed, her eyes narrowing, and her smirk sliding off of her face. She hated Richard. He had been the one to ruin her plan. She had sent her son, Damian, over to Gotham to kill both Red Robin and Nightwing. Unfortunately, Richard had turned her son against her! The insolent fool…

Talia waited, waited for her beloved to step out of the shadows and greet her. When no one moved, she sighed and put on hand on her hip.

"Damien. Come out." She looked at the shadows, waiting for her son.

"Mother. You pronounced my name wrong." Damian jumped down from the roof, a bat-a-rang in hand.

"Oh, I wasn't calling you, Damian. I was calling for my _real_ son." Talia beckoned at the other set of masked white eyes, a boy whom looked exactly like Damian. He walked up to her.

"Damian, meet Damien. Your new brother." Talia watched as Damian's face distorted in fury.

"What is this mother?!" Damian's voice echoed throughout the spacious room, and Talia laughed cruelly.

"You weren't fit up to become the heir of the League Of Assassins. But your brother is." Talia playfully petted Damien's hair like she used to with Damian. "It's obvious that he's already becoming better than you ever were."

Damien smirked at the wild look of bewilderment in his brother's face.

"It's nice to finally meet you. Mother has said so… much about you." He said in sarcastic tone, sneering at Damian. The two looked exactly alike, besides the height and age difference.

"Listen here you little-!" Damian was cut off by another voice, one that only served to infuriate him further.

"Ugh, one Damian is hard enough to bear. Two? No thanks." Red Robin jumped in from the open balcony, holding his bo staff. Batman chose to appear then, coming out of the shadows.

"Beloved. You finally choose to come out hmmm? Well, Ra's is already on his way, and if you really want to know what happened to that gypsy trash, then why don't you just ask me?" Talia walked over to Bruce, hips swaying. Damien followed, scoffing the whole way.

"Father, you're shorter than expected." Damien stated, obvious disapproval written all over his face. Talia grinned and licked her lips.

"Talia. I'm not here to fight you. I just want to find out what happened to Nightwing." Batman was as stoic as ever.

"You're no fun! If you want to find him that much, here's a little hint," she leaned over, getting even closer to Bruce. Her sweet breath made Bruce flinch. He wanted to knock her out so badly.

"What hides in the shadows, and is not a bat? What has its Talons out, ready for a snack? What preys on evil, but no justice is prevailed? Be weary, for they know, how to make the game of life easy and slow." She laughed, and then poked Bruce in the chest.

"That's Talon with a capital T!" Talia backed up, gathering Damien into her arms.

"Now, I've given you a hint. Can you leave me alone? I've got more important things to do." She sauntered to the door, turning her head to see that Bruce had already left. Damian and Red Robin were also gone, no evidence indicating that they had been there at all.

"Tt." Damien stated, scowling. "Brothers are gross. How is _he_ part of my brethren?"

Talia rolled her eyes. "Just like Damian."

"Except better."

And with that, Talia couldn't agree more.

"Yeah, yeah, Damien. Go call your grandfather and tell him that the Bats know about the Court of Owls."

She chuckled at his face of admiration. Unlike Damian, Talia had been there, every minute, and every second of Damien's life. Damien loved his Grandfather. She threw him her phone, and then studied her petite hands.

"Oh, and tell him to break contact with Owlman. That man had screws loose in his head!" Talia waved her perfectly manicured nails in the air. Owlman had denied telling her his secret identity! She had been very mad. Perhaps letting her Beloved destroy him would be amusing to watch.

She imagined what Owlman's face looked like, but oddly enough, the only image that popped up in her mind was her Beloved's face, steel blue eyes completed with a scowl.

Talia didn't know how accurate she was. Sighing with frustration, she stopped trying to do the impossible, and zoned in on Damien's conversation. After he was done talking, Talia smirked, a new idea forming in her mind.

"Come on Damien, let's go and see the show!" Talia took the red phone out of his hands, and started walking, trusting Damien to follow.


	17. Wililam Cobb

Bruce Wayne did not like the fact that he had been drugged to get a son. Though he loved Damian, it was very frustrating to find out that Talia had used him to breed Damian. He hadn't spoken to her ever since she had handed Damian to him. He dreaded going to the League of Assassins base, where he would most likely meet the wretched woman again. He could only summarize what Damian felt.

"Robin, I've got a lead." He stated, staring at the little black communicator in his hand. He really hated to tell his son this. He had been purposely banning Damian from all the patrols and missions that Ra's or Talia showed up in. Though Bruce knew that it was aggravating his son, he still continued to ban Damian. He only wanted the best of his son, and he didn't want any of his evil relatives killing him. Heck, he didn't want Damian to be _near_ them at all.

"Oracle has a classified informant," Bruce had to say classified, or Damian would most likely hack into the Batcomputer's database, find that person, and then totally annihilate them until they gave him more information, "whom said that they had seen Nightwing."

"What?!" Damian's voice screeched on the other end of the line, and Bruce grimaced, holding the device away from his ear. "Why didn't you inform me sooner?!" Bruce could see practically see his son's scowl.

"The informant said that she spotted him in Ra's place. He was supposedly fighting some of Ra's usual thugs. He was apparently stopping a weapons bust." There was a unusual silence on the other end, and Bruce was immediately regretting telling Damian that. Maybe he should've sat him out, and brought in Batgirl and Red Robin instead.

"Well, what happened next, why is he missing?!" Damian's loud voice was back, and as irritating as it was, Bruce was relieved that he hadn't broken something inside of his son when mentioning Ra's. He knew that Damian despised Ra's, and even Talia to some extent. He had never got the full report of what had happened with Damian back at the League of Assassins, but he was pretty sure that it was horrible and grueling.

"Well, the informant ran, but they said that Nightwing never reappeared." Bruce switched the Batmobile from autopilot to pilot, needing to do something with his free hand.

"What? The informant _ran_?! What kind of coward would-" Bruce cut off Damian, dodging a nearby blimp that was way _too_ close to the Batmobile for his comfort. The car's wings had propellers, which could rip right through the blimp's materials in one fellow try.

"Robin, not all people are like you. Anyways, meet up with Batgirl in the Batcave. The Flash may be there, but just ignore him. He'll only get in the way. I'll hand the debriefing to you. Tell Red Robin and Batgirl what I just told you." Bruce cut off the connection, and leaned back into his seat.

He silently mulled over the fact that his loyal butler and guardian would tell the Flash what happened, while pressing his foot on the gas pedal, enabling the Batmobile's thrusters to ignite, flying faster and smoother in Gotham's smoggy night sky.

Bruce was thankful that the sacred city 'Eth Alth'eban was close to Gotham. The Batmobile's battery was already running on fumes, and he cursed himself for not spending time on figuring out a way to convert the gas needed to fuel the car, to water. He could see the gas meter slowly turning right. He should've charged the battery yesterday, but Damian had ran after the Joker, and he had totally forgotten about it. It was a good thing that the car could still run on regular, fossil made, gas.

He needed to speak to Damian about upgrading the Batmobile.

Bruce looked at the little forrest that surronded 'Eth Alth'eban, and found a little spot where he could hide the Batmobile. Bruce silently touched down, stirring the leaves, but not making a huge noise. No ninjas came out of the trees to kill him, so Bruce unbuckled his seatbelt and hopped out of the car.

"Robin. Red Robin. Batgirl. Did you get the mission debreif?" Bruce turned on his communicator and started walking, trekking through the wildlife. He was careful of the various twigs that were scattered around the floor. They looked small, but the sound they made, when applied the right amount of pressure, was very loud. If Bruce had a penny for each thug who stepped on a twig and alerted him… he would have a million pennies or so.

"Batman. The Flash has infilitrated the 'Cave." Damian's loud voice was back on the communicator, and Bruce grimaced as he lowered the volume down a bit.

"Infilitrated? More like _let in_! Agent A _opened_ the door for me!" Now, the Flash's obnouxios voice came from the other end. Bruce hurridley turned the volume down even lower.

"Be quiet. Get here now. I'll send you the coordinates-" Bruce started typing, while looking through his Bat-binoculours. He saw Talia, speaking to a man clad in black.

"Your in 'Eth Alth'eban right now, aren't you?" Damian asked, something soft in his voice. Bruce pitied him. The reports had said that this was where Damian was raised.

"Good. So you know where it is. Come here right now. Don't bring Flash," With that, Bruce ended the call, and started gliding through the woods even more smoothly this time. When he reached the edge of the woods, he stopped. There was no use in just charging in half-assed. So, Bruce took out his Bat-binoculars and continued to look through the balcony windows of one of the biggest buildings in 'Eth Alth'eban. He waited for the backup to arrive.

It didn't take long when Bruce heard the soft sound of something rustling.

"Robin. Red Robin." Bruce stood, placing the binoculars back into his belt. "Lets get going."

He took out his grappling gun, and grappled his way up to the open balcony doors. Damian and Tim followed. Talia looked around, but then left. Bruce silently noded at his two partners, and then stealthily ran to the crates that were conviently place in the shadows. He watched as Robin flipped himself onto the beams on the ceiling, and Red Robin tucked himself into the shadows of the balcony doors. All was set, all except for one thing; Talia. Several thoughts came to mind, did she even know what happened to Nightwing? Futher more, why would she tell him?

After a few seconds of silence, silence that Bruce was long used to, the door opened again. Talia walked in, a dark smirk set upon her face. There was another figure too, one that Bruce couldn't see clearly, whom went behind Talia's 'throne'. The woman herslef sat down, and crossed her arms.

Bruce tensed, ready to jump out of his hiding place and give his partners the signal to help, when the door opened again.

"Ma'am! The Batmobile was spotted in the forest! The Batman must be close!" The same black-clad ninja whom Batman had seen before they had busted in, was hurriedly whispering very loudly to Talia.

Talia smiled, and took the ninja's head in her hands. She looked innocent, but Bruce knew that she could kill with one fellow swipe of the hand.

"Bring me my phone." The woman smirked, removing her red nails off of the ninja's face. Bruce chose to wait even longer, wanting to know whom she was going to call.

After the ninja came back with Talia's phone, Bruce eavsdropped on the conversation. It seemed as though Ra's was coming, soon. Now was the time to appear, before Damian's grandfather showed.

Bruce stood, his cape making a rustling sound on the ground. It seemed as though it had alerted Talia, and she perked up in her seat.

"Hello?" She said, getting up. Her voice was soft, but had a dangerous edge to it. He saw Tim poke his head from the balcony. Bruce shook his head in a warning. Talia was dangerous. He wanted to see if she would attack, or tell him where Nightwing was.

"Beloved, is that you?" Talia started walking towards him. She stopped, and the all-knowing smirk was gone.

"Are you looking for that gypsy trash?" Talia's eyes narrowed, and Bruce looked up to see Damian shaking in anger. He inwardly sighed. Ever since he had been sucked into a time lapse, and Dick had become the Batman, nothing had been the same. It wasn't like he didn't like the bond between Damian and Dick; it was just that Damian had changed.

Bruce didn't know what to think of it. When he had first met him, he had been an angry, hotheaded brat. Now, Damian was much more…how to say it…clear-headed.

He was shaken out of his thoughts when Talia moved, placing a hand on her hips.

"Damien. Come out." Bruce looked upward again, seeing that Talia had called Damian. Curiosity took over him; what would Damian do?

"Mother. You pronounced my name wrong." Damian's dark green combat boots crunched on the carpeted ground as he jumped off the rafters and onto the floor. Bruce silently groaned. Of course he would show himself…

He was about to come out of his hiding place too, when Talia said something interesting.

"Oh, I wasn't calling you, Damian. I was calling for my real son." She sneered, disarraying her supposed gentle face to a frozen image of cruelty. Bruce shuddered, it was a wonder on how Damian got as far as he did today, surely any other child whom had to face the wrath of that monster would have long since discovered the realm of insanity.

The figure that had walked in with Talia showed itself. It was a clone, a clone of Damian.

"Damian meet Damien. Your new brother." Bruce widened his eyes as he saw Damian struggle to hold his calm posture, if he showed any sign of weakness, Talia would probably take advantage of it!

"What is this, Mother?!" He could practically see the waves of emotion rolling off of Damian in red waves of fury. Maybe he should come out of his hiding place and try to break the tense anger in the air.

Bruce droned out of the rest conversation, which was pretty unusual. He just couldn't stand to listen to that cynical woman's taunting voice. Usually, Batman would spend every millisecond looking and analyzing data out of speech, Unfortunately, the woman was so monstrous that even he had to zone out everything.

Red Robin jumped out of his hiding place, apparently not seeing how dangerous Talia was. He had his bo staff ready, and his fighting stance fixed to perfection. Tim's courage snapped Bruce out of his mulling, bringing adrenaline pumping back into his bloodstreams. As if he had been awoken out of a deep spell, he jumped out from behind the crates.

"Beloved. You finally choose to come out hmmm? Well, Ra's is already on his way, and if you really want to know what happened to that gypsy trash, then why don't you just ask me?" She made her way to Bruce, a dark sneer tarnishing her features.

Damien, Damian's clone, walked behind her, and Bruce anxiously snuck a peek at the child.

"Father. You're shorter than expected." Bruce's eyebrow twitched in annoyance underneath the cowl. It was like he had traveled back into time; Damien was exactly like Damian when he had first arrived at the manor.

"Talia. I'm not here to fight you. I just want to find out what happened to Nightwing." Bruce didn't yell, he didn't scream, he didn't whisper. He merely used a tone that boarded off all of his emotions.

"You're no fun! If you want to him that much, here's a little hint," Talia leaned towards Bruce's ears, which were hidden under his cowl, and Bruce sucked in a breath to control himself from shuddering under the woman's presence. She was worse than Silena, which said a lot.

"What hides in the shadows, and is not a bat? What has its Talons out, ready for a snack? What preys on evil, but no justice is prevailed? Be weary, for they know, how to make the game of life easy and slow." Bruce's eyes narrowed as he reran his brain over every little possibility that the riddle held. Talia poked his chest, and said something that made his eyes widen.

"That's Talon with a capital T!" Bruce thought back, back when Dick had been in scaly green pants. There had been one incident, one that Bruce had never solved. William Cobb, a man that had called himself "Talon" had been the prime suspect in a long list of murders across Gotham.

Talia said something, but Bruce was caught up in his own thoughts. He signaled for Red Robin and Robin to follow him, and jumped out of the balcony, grappling his way to the Batmobile.


	18. Jason Comes Home

Jason dreaded this. His stomach dropped as he stood on top of the roof. His throat began to dry as he slid down the large shingles. His legs were weak as he stared at the door. His head started hurting, and he could feel the single drop of sweat that slowly ran down his face. His heart was pounding. Why was this so hard?!

"HEY JASON CAN YOU HEAR ME? I'LL JUST RING THE DOORBELL, SINCE YOU'RE TAKING SO LONG." Roy Harper yelled in his ears, somehow breaking Jason free of his nervousness. He looked to his side, and saw the red head slowly pointing one finger at the little button inside of the stone gargoyle's mouth.

Jason felt the whole world slow down as the finger got even closer . . Before he knew it, Roy was on the ground, cradling his now almost-broken finger.

"WHAT THE **BLEEP** JASON! WHAT WAS THAT FOR! YOU WERE THE ONE THAT DIDN'T RING, I WAS JUST HELPING!" Roy was practically howling on the ground, still clutching his finger.

"WELL IT WAS YOUR FAULT! ANYWAYS, SHUT UP BEFORE THEY HEAR-" Jason was stopped in the middle of stomping Roy's face when the great grand doors of the Wayne Manor opened.

"My god, Master Jason, Master Roy, oh, and Master Kori; I didn't see you there. Come inside." The weathered face of Alfred Pennyworth opened the door, and for a second, Jason thought he was seeing things. Simply put, Alfred looked like crap. When Jason had been Robin, and he had lived in the manor, Alfred had his youth, his snarky comments, and his lively eyes. Now, he looked like he hadn't slept or shaved in days.

Without putting up a fight, Jason walked inside. He could never deny the great Alfred Pennyworth, who had a certain power of making other people do what he said. The little group passed the large painting of Bruce's parents in the living room. It had always reminded Jason of his own parents, his abusive father, and his druggie mother.

They passed the fireplace, where another large painting was hung. It was a picture of Dick and his parents, back when they were the Flying Grayson's. Alfred stopped, for a second, stared at the painting, and continued to walk. The act did not get unnoticed by any of the occupants in the room.

"So, we goin' to the Batcave?" Jason asked, trying to look casual, but totally failing.

"Master Jason, I believe it is: 'are we going'." Alfred stopped at the grandfather clock in the middle of the dining room. Roy and Kori stared, and Jason had a sudden urge to rush them out of the house. The Batcave was only something privileged people could see, and Jason wanted to honor that code. He quickly banished the thought just as it came to him, he was the Red Hood, and he was supposed to hate all Bats! He was only here for Dick, the only person left in the Batclan that still had hope for him.

Alfred twisted the hands of the clock to nine o'clock, and the great grandfather clock started moving to upwards. Roy and Kori knew the Bruce was Batman, but they had never seen the cave. Their faces lit up in a childish curiosity, and without thinking, Jason blurted out, "Don't touch anything."

Alfred smirked, and Jason could see the old man's usual twinkle in his eyes slowly start coming back. Maybe coming over to the Wayne estate wasn't so bad after all?

While they started walking down the long winding stairs, the faint voice of the Flash could be heard.

"Ummm, is Wally supposed to be here?" Roy asked, swatting at a bat that was trying to make a nest in his gelled hair. Kori giggled as baby bats gathered around her flowing orange hair.

"Yes, I called Master Wally here. I thought that perhaps he would help find Master Richard faster, but Master Bruce denied his help." Jason's eyes widened. Alfred had denied Bruce?! That was new…

As they neared the middle caverns of the darkened Batcave, Jason stopped. A few meters ahead of him stood the one sole man that he could not face. Nope. This whole trip had been a whole mistake. Maybe Dickie-bird didn't even need his help. Jason swiftly turned, ignoring the looks of confusement on Kori and Roy's faces.

He started walking, away from the tarnishes in his life, away from his failed dreams and hopes. His ears burned a bright red. No, he was never ever come back here again.

Suddenly, something heavy was on his shoulder.

"Jason. I need you." The gruff voice of Batman, someone that had taken the role of his father, reached his ears, and Jason almost fainted in disbelief. Never before had those words been said out of Bruce's mouth. Never, not as he was Robin, not even when he had just been a lost kid that was adopted by the billionaire.

Jason could feel the betraying acts of his own body, salty tears yet to be spilled, clouding his vision; slumping shoulders that caved in for that heavy hand on his shoulder, a light heat on his face that made his sweat turn cold.

And with that, he turned, he turned and accepted the fact that Bruce needed him-no Dick needed him.

"I'm in."

And they got to work. Bruce had explained everything, how he suspected that a mysterious organization called 'The Court of Owls' had kidnapped Dick. Wally had been included in the mission debrief, his job was to run throughout Gotham, checking for any possible places that The Court of Owls could use as a lair.

The Bats were assigned on monitor duty, with the exception of Batman, whom was riding around in the Batmobile and looking for information. Jason and Damian were working along on reading the file 'William Cobb, The Unsolved Mystery'.

Stephanie and Tim were searching the vast network of security footage from all of Gotham, not just Eastern Gotham.

Kori was scanning the sky view of Gotham, while Roy was doing… who knew? He had disappeared halfway throughout the debriefing.

Jason sipped his coffee, his red eyes staring at the screen. On his side, Damian was unusually quiet.

Suddenly, there was a loud bleep on the Batcomputer, and all the monitors connected to the great pc changed into the Flash's face.

"GUYS! A LITTLE HELP HERE?! I FOUND DICK, BUT HE'S ATTACKING ME!"

Everyone stood up in his or her seats, Jason spilling his coffee by doing so. He didn't care about the stains; Wally had found Dick!

"This is the Oracle. I've tracked down the Flash's signal. It's coming from inside the old Gotham Museum's underground systems, you know, where they used to hold the fishes!" Barbara's voice quickly ensued, and the chaos started.


	19. Wally Needs Food

Wally couldn't hit him. It wasn't just because he was twirling around his array of fists and kicks; it was because Richard was his friend, his best friend. There was no way in the word that Wally could bring himself to would hurt his best friend. So, all he was doing was zooming out of the way of Dick's barrage of attacks. He had called for backup, using the one emergency button that Batman had given him when he left.

He had only been fighting Dick for only a couple of minutes, and already Wally was having trouble taking deep breaths. Dick had been armed, with bombs that made little glue traps on the ground, liquid nitrogen gas, and even the Poison Ivy chemicals. Wally had had to dodge each bomb, which was being thrown by Dick. To top it all off, Dick had an almost scary accuracy. There was no way Wally was going to last that long while fighting an acrobatic Bat.

Wally had been running throughout Gotham, looking for possible evil villain hideouts, and had checked almost every nook and cranny. He had made his way to the Gotham Museum, which was broken and shut down. It admitted a dangerous aurora, and almost immediately, Wally had known he had found The Court of Owl's hideout. He had taken one step inside of the museum when a shadowed figure had tackled him onto the ground.

There was a mask, an odd one that covered his attacker's eyes; but Wally had known it was Dick by the way his body moved so gracefully. He was wearing some kind of suit, one that resembled an owl. Wally grimaced, if Dick were dressed up like that, what would the Owlman look like? He had tried to reason with him, but all Dick did was growl. So, now Wally was waiting for Batman, and his tranquilizer gun.

Wally had no problem with using his superhuman speed to dodge his best friend's quick punches and kicks, but after a few minutes, he could already feel his stomach growling. 'Darn my fast metabolism' he thought, already slowing down. The ache in his stomach had him doubling over in pain. He opened the little compartment in his glove, and saw that it had no food. He had forgotten to refill it… And he had forgotten to eat all of the delicious foods that Alfred made…

"Oof!" The air was knocked out of Wally, Dick had side kicked him in the gut. The force of the kick was so great, that Wally skidded a whole meter before stopping.

"That's gonna leave a mark…" Wally groaned, picking himself up and looking at his hands. They were marred with flesh wounds and skid marks. Being a speedster had its perks, and at no time, the stinging sensation was gone. But, he was still hungry, and his stomach started threatening this brain to bring it food, or it would eat itself. He was now only running on fumes.

Wally clicked the power button on his communicator, but saw only sparks. It must have broken during the fight. 'I should go and raid Batman's tech supply'. He thought, thinking of all the times that Bruce's communicator never broke, even though it took so much damage.

"Look, c'mon Dick, you know I'm you're best friend, right?" Wally said, not really caring that he had used his real name. At the moment, his hands were raised in a 'peace' gesture, and Dick had backed him up into a corner.

"C'mon man, take a chill pill!" Wally tried again, a nervous sweat trickling down the side of his face. Dick still advanced, and Wally ducked the first punch. There was an undercut, one that Wally didn't see coming, which had him up in the air for a few seconds.

Wally landed back onto the ground with a thump, his stomach constricting for some much needed air. When was the cavalry going to arrive? Suddenly, he felt the air move faster around his head, dodging a very deadly fist that was aimed for face.

He scrambled into a standing position, and ran behind the old marble column that stood in the far south of the room. The aquarium tanks that were still in the old museum eerily glowed, dead fish bodies floating at the top. Wally leaned against the column, and let the smell of dead animals waft into his nostrils. He hadn't noticed it before, since he had been fighting, but the room smelt so bad, he almost needed to barf.

Hoping that Dick couldn't see him for now, he took an intake of air, preparing himself for the next fight. Suddenly, a Dick slammed against him, knocking him onto the nearby wall. The flickering lights of the aquarium illuminated the 'Talon', the rest of the room dark.

"I am not 'Dick'! I am Talon!" Dick roared in rage, his voice bouncing off the walls. Wally gulped as he placed his hands on his neck and squeezed, strangling him.

"Ok! Ok! You're Talon! Let me go!" Wally managed to say, desperately clawing at the hands encircled around his throat. His vision was already turning black, and he couldn't breath at all anymore. Wally closed his eyes in defeat, turning his head to the side. He could've punched him. He could've thrown him off, but he was Dick, his long time best friend. He had been there to support Wally when Barry had died. He was the one who was there to push the mantle of the Flash onto him. He had been there to comfort Wally when his wife, Artemis, died while giving birth. Maybe, with all the things that the two had gone through, Dick would have stopped strangling him, and just remember. Alas, Wally could still feel those cold hands encircled around his neck, and the heavy thought of his best friend ending him brought tears to his eyes.

There was a sudden 'WHOOSH', and suddenly Wally could breath again. He gasped, and looked to his left, where a bird-a-rang was literally _embedded_ into the wall. Dick was still on top of him, though his hands were gone from his neck. There was a 'BANG', and Dick scrambled off of Wally.

He looked to the left. Wally's eyes widened. There was a bullet, crushed into a worthless husk of titanium and was still steaming, that dropped from the little hole in the wall, to the ground with a loud clatter.

"Dickie-bird," The sly voice of Jason Todd, the 'leader' of the Outlaws, was now heard throughout the room.

Wally got up, and while Dick was distracted, he used the last of his energy to speed away. He got to the exit door, hearing the Dick angrily shouting, "I'm Talon!"

Suddenly, Damian Wayne stepped out of the shadows, holding two sandwiches. "Eat up while you can. Batman is scouting out the Owlman, and by the time your done with those; you'll have to help subdue Grayson. Todd and I can only last so long against Grayson."

Wally gratefully took the huge sandwiches, eating them. Damian returned back to the fight, and then he almost spit the food back out. Had that brat just admitted that Dick was better then him? Maybe Damian wasn't as bad as he seemed.

"Hurry up, Flash! I thought you were faster than that!" Damian shouted from the fray of the battle. Wally made a face. Never mind, Damian was still the little devil child he always was.

He ate his sandwiches with a faster gusto, and already his energy was replenishing. Grinning, he licked his lips and got ready. Refreshed, he jumped into the fight.


	20. Not Really Cured

The bright lights were the main reason on why his eyes stung. The air smelt sickening, with a tint of staleness. His arms hurt. His writs were tied to the hard bed he was currently lying on. There was a steady and annoying 'beep, beep, beep' that was hard to tune out.

Unfortunately, Dick was used to the situation. The feel, smell, and taste of a hospital were etched into his mind, and the certain taste of pudding in the back of his mouth helped him conclude that he was in the hospital. Again. For the hundredth time in his life, he lay connected to a heart monitor and blood bags. Dick slowly craned his neck, looking at the table that was next to the hospital bed. On the table, there was a tray. On the tray, there was a hell of a lot of pudding cups. Vanilla ones, and Dick loathed vanilla pudding. He preferred the chocolate, and ever since he was a child, all of the hospitals he had been hospitalized in served the _best _chocolate pudding. It rivaled even the great Alfred Pennyworth's cooking. So, all of that meant, that someone had been eating all of Dick's pudding's. The hospital only gave out pudding to the patients, and Dick would have never ordered the vanilla. Since Dick was currently stuck in one room, with no other patients, that meant it was one of the people that was his friend, or someone he knew, came to visit him and ordered vanilla pudding for him, but ate it themselves. That was rude! But that also meant- God what drugs had they given him? Dick had never before thought about pudding for more than three minutes.

Snapping out of his pudding filled thoughts—boy, what he would give for some delicious hospital chocolate pudding right now- he looked to the right, and saw a chair. The chair had a slight indent in the middle of the plump cushion. That indent showed that someone had been sitting there recently. And judging by the size of the indent, and the indent of the indent, it was a man's bottom that had sat down on that chair. And judging by the width of the indent of the indent, the man had just left. And- nope, he was not going to start another long rant, much less about the indent of an indent in a cushioned chair. Speaking of cushions, when had the hospital beds gotten so hard? Dick swore that his back was already gaining scoliosis, and the restraints didn't help. Why was he restrained anyways? There was only one time in his life that he had had to be strapped down onto a bed in the hospital. There had been a run in with Poison Ivy, and Dick had given his rebreather to Barbara, and had gotten the face full of pink chemicals instead of her. He had had to be restrained, for the chemicals were starting to work on his mind. What had he done wrong this time? He couldn't move his legs either, and what would have happened if he suddenly wanted to itch something so bad? With that thought in mind, his nose started to feely itchy, the unwelcome restraints causing Dick to sneeze. He could _literally_ see the box of tissues on the table. Due to the restraints, Dick couldn't move his arms _one foot_ to his left, and grab a tissue. IT WAS SO FAR, YET SO CLOSE!

Dick felt like crap; he suddenly had a case of ADHD, snot that he could not wipe off on his face, and yet another itch next to his mouth. He huffed and kicked the thin hospital sheets in annoyance, the restraints on his ankles only enabling him to twist his foot. The sheet was on the floor in no time, and Dick could only snort as he discovered the garb he was in. Really, the hospital scrubs needed a heavy remodeling. He sneezed again, the chilly air pressing against him.

Dick grunted, this was almost as bad as the time Two-Face had bashed his face in. "UGH!" He yelled, frustrated, and feeling the sudden urge to throw something at someone. Weren't there supposed to be _people_ in a hospital? Where were the doctors, the nurses, and the surgeons?

Suddenly, with Dick's enhanced hearing, he heard several people approaching his room. Finally. Maybe he could get out of the restraints and get a tissue.

The door opened, and Dick could hear the excited voices of nurses.

"Did you see all the injuries he sported?" One female voice stated, a slight bewilderment in her tone.

"I didn't know that the sons of billionaire's got hurt so much." Another female questioned, and Dick could practically see her brain trying to work out how he had gotten so many scars.

_Hah, such simple-minded things._

"But Bruce explained everything, remember? Were you even there for that meeting? He talked about Richards activities, hiking, camping, and other outdoor stuff."

_Ugh, why would they trust someone so easily, just because he's a billionaire?_

"Nah, I forgot he was there. I was out in the back, takin' a smoke."

_Why would they slowly kill themselves with such a mindless activity as a 'smoke'? Are they all to weak to resist the temptation?_

"Whoa! How could you forget something like that?! Bruce Wayne is like, the Prince of Gotham! Maybe I'll be able to work at Wayne Enterprises, since I attended the meeting!"

_As if they would be able to work in such a prestigious place. Their brains simply wouldn't be able to comprehend the calculations there. Right… Dick?_

Wait what? Just now, Dick had mistaken the voice in his head part of the side effects of ADHD. Now, the voice had just addressed him. Through all the things he had faced in the past, being diagnosed with schizophrenia seemed like it was the worst out of all of it.

He knew of the symptoms of schizophrenia. When he and Batman had fought against Jonathon Crane, the Scarecrow, they had entered Crane's mind. There had been voices, voices that were jam-packed throughout his brain. Jonathon had a severe case of schizophrenia. What would happen if he had schizophrenia? Would he be as crazy as Jonathon Crane?!

Dick wasn't sure what was real and what was not anymore.

"Dick?" The soothing voice of Bruce Wayne sounded above him, and Dick nodded his head. Even if he couldn't tell what reality was compared to fake, Bruce could always be trusted.

Suddenly, the restraints were moving! Dick moved his right arm, testing it out. It was stiff, how long had he been in the hospital?

"Bruce," Dick said rolling the name off of his dehydrated tongue.

"Dick, please tell me how much you remember!" Bruce asked, worry laced in his tone. He took Dick's hands into his own, and squeezed.

"What?" Dick was confused. Why did Bruce sound so urgent?

"Please." It was scary for Batman to say 'please'. Bruce had never said that word to him with so much sincerity before.

"Well, weren't you teaching Damian how to strike a man without killing?" Dick whispered, lowering his voice so that the other people in the room couldn't hear him.

Bruce looked at him, grim and sad.

"Dick, that was a week ago. Damian learned how to do that a week ago, in the Batcave."

"Shhh!" Dick said, wobbly testing his free legs by walking on the ground. "They'll hear you!" He gestured at the group of female nurses, whom were huddled in one end of the room, whispering to each other in hushed voices that Dick could not here.

Bruce gave him a look.

"Dick, there's no one in here. I swept the room for bugs. There are none. I also disabled the cameras. What in the world are you talking about?"

Dick's eyes widened. He turned his head to look at Bruce, and then back at the nurses. They weren't there anymore.

Great. He had amnesia and schizophrenia. What else could be wrong with him?

Bruce walked towards Dick, and suddenly the voice in his head multiplied.

_Get away from him, now Dick!_

_Don't let him touch you!_

_He's lying!_

_Don't believe anything he's about to say!_

"They said that there could have been possible brain damage…" Bruce said, reaching over to hold Dick's hand.

The voices grew louder.

"SHUT UP!" Dick roared, lost in between reality and fantasy.

The voices stopped at once, but the yell left Bruce blinking rapidly, trying to process what just happened.

Dick frantically looked around the room, his eyes bulging with fake anticipation for something that would never come. What if Bruce was only a figment of his imagination? What if all of this was some horrible nightmare?

Dick threw his hands in the air, exasperated with himself. He slumped back onto the bed, and cried. "Bruce, there are voices in my head!"

AUTHORS NOTE: THIS IS THE END OF THE FIRST PART OF THE STORY. THERE WILL BE A SEQUEL CALLED "VOICES IN MY HEAD", EXPLAINING ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED TO OWLMAN, HOW DICK WAS CURED, AND THE PAIN OF WHAT DICK HAS TO FACE WITH AMNESIA AND SCHIZOPHRENIA. THANK YOU FOR READING THIS FAR.


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